


Eternal or Temporary Lies

by RachelZX



Category: The Malenkee Saga - Jimち ASMR | JimChi ASMR
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 06:26:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30000645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RachelZX/pseuds/RachelZX
Summary: Malenkee doesn't know how long the lie will last.Eternal? Or temporary?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Machine translated from my original Chinese work. Apologise for all those grammar and logic mistakes.(For instance there are things like oneself that actually mean he or she, or men that actually means people... silly translating)  
> There are settings changed compared to the original videos.  
> The lines maybe quite different compared to the original videos due to the translations.  
> Short background stories in East Germany included.  
> And it is not quite passing a standard moral thought...I raised the question and didn't answer. The characters didn't answer either.  
> To get a happy ending, please finish at Chapter 8.  
> To get a false happy ending , please finish at Chapter 12.  
> To get a true sad ending, please finish the work lol.

The girl woke up on the floor.  
Her eyes were hazy as if they were covered with something, and the field of vision in front of her right eye was red and black as if it were blood.  
She was trying to open her eyes. Her head hurt, too. It seemed to be bleeding.  
Why can't you remember anything?  
She tried to remember, but her mind went blank and she couldn't even remember her own name.  
She was cold and hungry.  
But now she ignored her rumbling stomach, for she noticed a man in black walking in front of her, talking on his cell phone and saying something she couldn't understand.  
The man in black seemed to notice her. He turned and leaned against the wall. His eyes seemed to stare at her blankly.  
The girl instinctively felt fear -- especially at the sight of the silver pistol at his waist.  
What does he want?  
Who is he?  
Is he going to kill me?  
This was the only possibility left in the girl's mind.  
But she had not thought of what she had done!  
She huddled, not daring to look into the eyes of the man in black.  
When the man in black finished his call, the flip of the phone was closed and there was a click.  
The girl shrugged her shoulders and breathed more quickly.  
The next thing she knew, she heard the sound of metal clashing, probably bullets and insurance.  
She closed her eyes, and her head sank deep into the ground, trembling.  
Perhaps he was the enemy of someone, or the perpetrator of some terrible crime?  
She didn't want to go away with a blank memory, but there seemed to be nothing she could do now.  
She held her breath, the beating of her heart all the more obvious.  
But she waited for a while, only to be met with another pace and a heavy sigh.  
Then there was another metallic sound -- the man turned off the safety.  
She raised her head quietly. The man had raised his pistol and squatted down to look at her.  
He touched his forehead with what looked like a slight headache, but still looked at her.  
The girl shivered again -- her vision was still a little blurry, but even through that vision and the man's glasses, the scar on his right eye socket was very obvious.  
She didn't know what she was looking at. It was probably just fear.  
The man sighed heavily again, then said something and helped her to sit up.  
The girl did not know what he was going to do, still holding together shivering, staring at the black man's feet.  
The man in black leaned against the wall and seemed to ask more questions that she could not understand.  
The man in black then asked, "Do you speak English?"  
At last the girl understood.  
She raised her eyes to look at him.  
The man in black shook his head. "Of course, English."  
With a thick Eastern European accent -- oddly enough, he doesn't even remember his name, but he does remember all the other things -- he introduces himself: "My name is Dimi.  
Today...  
You're not going to die."  
The girl looked up and met Dimi's eyes.  
Dimi bent down and looked at her with a little more look in his eyes. "You're lucky...  
Very, very lucky."  
He took off his leather gloves, and the girl noticed that he was wearing a simple wedding ring.  
"Far from dying, I will cure you."  
He tossed his gloves aside and stooped down on the floor.  
The girl was a little more relaxed, but she still held herself in her arms.  
Dimi pulled out a pack of cigarettes and pulled out one. "Do you want one?"  
The girl shook her head.  
Dimi mumbles a few more words, then turns to light his cigarette, takes a long puff, and turns to the girl and says, "Look at you...  
How much do you remember?"  
The girl shook her head.  
"Well...  
Then you may be wondering now what happened and why the police are looking for you, too."  
The faint sound of a police car outside reminded the girl of this.  
She nodded her head slowly.  
Dimi went on to say, "I have good news and bad news.  
The bad news is, my boss wants you dead...  
But the good news is, I've decided not to.  
I'll save your life...  
Malenkee.  
Because, you see, I think you deserve to live longer."  
Dimi said, comparing her forehead as if it were the height of a child.  
'Is that my name?  
The girl spoke for the first time.  
Dimi looked at her and actually smiled. "No.  
It's Russian for "little guy."  
You can't even remember the name?"  
"No..."  
"Said the girl, taking a quick look at herself, thinking that she was probably about twenty years old enough not to be called that, much less to be taken by a suspected gangster as a growing child.  
"I am Russian...  
You're in St. Petersburg.  
You don't remember names...  
It doesn't matter. Names can be changed to hide your past."  
"Malenkee" nodded blankly.  
She saw the gun at Dimi's waist and tensed again.  
Dimi looked at the gun and waved his hand. "This?  
Don't worry. I won't point a gun at you.  
This is to be used against anyone who seeks you."  
Malenkee listened.  
She was relieved.  
Dimi put the cigarette aside, took off his jacket and draped it over Malenkee.  
He was so close that a thick whiff of tobacco came from Dimi and his jacket, dry and dizzy.  
The heat was intense, and Malenkee grabbed the skirt of the jacket and pulled it in a little more.  
Dimi stood up, fetched a medical kit from the other side of the room, came back and sat down. He took out some tampons and wiped Malenkee's forehead. Carefully, but seemingly involuntarily, he touched it hard and it hurt.  
Dimi added, "I'm a doctor, um...  
How can I put it...  
A doctor in a criminal organization.  
How about you...  
I'm in big trouble.  
Some people, powerful people, want to hurt you.  
But don't worry, I'll keep you safe.  
You have been wounded, so you must get well, Malenkee."  
Malenkee's right eye was covered with a cold compress. She lifted her left eye and looked at Dimi.  
Dimi tugged at the bandage, caught her eye, and smiled briefly for two seconds.  
He pounded Malenkee's head with various things. Malenkee didn't know what they were, but she felt pain.  
As she ducked away, Dimi frowned. "Don't move. I'm trying to help you, okay?"  
Say that finish, hit the gun-holder.  
Malenkee could only sit there.  
Strangely, she thought she was just trying to scare herself.  
Maybe because of my own condition, it only took me a few minutes to start trusting the Dimi.  
She doesn't even know if he's lying to her. She doesn't even know who he is, what his last name is, or even if "Dimi" is his real name.  
"Have you warmed up?"  
"Well."  
After a brief question-and-answer session, the two men fell silent again.  
Dimi treated Malenkee's wounds with a serious look on her face while she sat and accepted.  
After finishing the last thing, which was probably a dressing of some sort, he heaved a heavy sigh, stood up, drew the gun out again, waved it in his hand, and said, "Do as I say, clear?  
You must stay still and not wander about, or it will be very tiring for us both."  
The first cigarette was gone by Dimi a few puffs.  
He lit another, then raised his hand. "You've got two bleeding spots on your head, so I'll have to stop it.  
It hurts. Bear with it."  
Before Malenkee could react, Dimi burned the cigarette butt on his head.  
The pain seemed to sink into Malenkee's brain, and tears welled up in her eyes.  
She quietly brushed the back of her hand against her tears and said nothing.  
Dimi took a few more puffs, and the second cigarette was immediately half empty.  
He sat down on the floor again and spoke. 'I'll tell you, Malenkee, about you.  
Before, my boss gave me an order.  
And he's a good man -- well, not a good man either, but a good man on the whole."  
He vaguely described his boss, then added: "He asked me to...  
Well, I told you.  
What a cruel joke.  
But I think you're better off alive.  
And you have...  
Ability, a kind of ability to make a big difference.  
I'll take you to the right people. They're called Dynasty.  
You just need to love them...  
Do you agree?  
We are all happy if you agree;  
If you don't agree, I'll have to carry out my boss's orders."  
Malenkee nodded at once -- she couldn't understand what she was hearing, but why shouldn't she?  
"Very good."  
Dimi also had his second cigarette.  
He put out his cigarette and muttered something to himself, probably in Russian. Then he looked at Malenkee, stood up, and whispered as if for himself: "Don't get mixed up with bad people, Malenkee, especially now."  
Then he put on his leather gloves, looked down at Malenkee and asked, "Can you promise to meet me in two days at the Nevsky Street subway station, at the same time?"  
Dimi looked at her with his dark eyes and said nothing.  
Malenkee is very reluctant to go out now, but as with the previous Dynasty, she has no choice.  
"Good.  
Can you promise not to tell anyone about our plans?  
...  
Very good.  
Keep the jacket. Here you are. Take it for your own protection."  
With that, Dimi pulls out the silver pistol, briefly demonstrates how to load and load the gun, and hands it to Malenkee without further ado.  
Malenkee took the hot thing and unsteadily put it away.  
"There is food and drink here. You should be able to last two days.  
Take the dressing off your head before you go out."  
Dimi straightened up. "I'll be by your side at the subway, and I'll take you to Dynasty.  
Now, I have to lie to my boss...  
Good-bye!"  
With a cold face, he gave Malenkee a jest on the tip of his nose and left the house.  
Malenkee sat down on the floor, stunned.  
The clock struck four in the afternoon and it was dark outside.  
On the wall hangs a calendar of the month. The date is November 2011.  
She felt the handle of her gun, absorbing it all.  
There was an itch on her head, and she scratched it.  
The smell of tobacco lingered on the jacket.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite two days of convenience food, Malenkee still felt much better.  
At twelve o 'clock she removed the dressing.  
It's a little better, but it still looks terrible.  
But she believes Dimi, who works as a doctor in a gang, may be dealing with a much bigger situation than her own.  
She trawled a cupboard for rubles, wore an ill-fitting Dimi jacket, hid her silver pistol, and went out the door.  
Once downstairs, Malenkee realized that she had underestimated the winter in St. Petersburg, but she was able to hold on, though the blow was painful.  
She asked all the way, some of them could not understand what she was saying, and some of them had such a strong accent that she could not understand what he was saying.  
Anyway, it took a lot of effort to get to the subway station.  
Good thing the Russian subway doesn't have security checks or anything like that, otherwise I wouldn't be able to keep my gun.  
Perhaps because it wasn't rush hour, the subway wasn't particularly crowded, but even a dozen people in one compartment was enough to instill fear in Malenkee.  
She wondered who they were, and which one was trying to grab her?  
What do you do with a gun you don't know how to use without Dimi?  
The other people in the car seemed to notice the strange look the girl in the black jacket with a cut in her head was giving them and turned their backs.  
Malenkee pressed hard against the back, deliberately letting the gun hurt her -- a rare sense of security, but the destination was drawing nearer.  
At last the Nevsky Street station arrived.  
Malenkee was the first to rush out of the car and onto the island.  
The clock says twenty past three.  
Malenkee was glad he had left home early and had spent too much time on the way to find out where the subway station was.  
The Nevsky Street station is plain and stocky, probably in the Soviet style, but the exact Malenkee is unclear.  
She didn't know which exit Dimi was going to meet her at, so she circled around and chose the smallest one to sit on.  
As time passed, Malenkee grew anxious.  
At four o 'clock, Dimi still didn't show up.  
Could his boss have done something to him?  
Malenkee's heart twitched.  
All her dependence was now on this man, and if anything happened to him, she would be condemned to death.  
She breathed hard and clutched the jacket.  
It's five past four.  
Malenkee stood up and paced anxiously.  
She searched all the exits again, but there was no Dimi sign.  
It's ten past four.  
Malenkee could not wait.  
Instinctively, she didn't think Dimi was going to be even a minute late, so she decided to check on him.  
She went out through the smallest exit.  
It's cloudy today. It's already dark outside.  
Small exit with gray stone brick built, it is very cold.  
Outside were wide roads and the busy Nevsky Avenue.  
Malenkee's eyes were briefly caught by the neon, but she immediately began to look for Dimi.  
The small exit had just dropped off a group of passengers, and Malenkee was still waiting.  
In the shadow stood a car, from which two men got out.  
Before Malenkee could react, they quickly knocked her unconscious and took her away.  
No one paid any attention to it.

Malenkee woke up with his hands and feet trapped, his mouth taped shut, and, most importantly, he seemed to be inside a sack in a car...  
She trembled with fear, and a voice nearby said, in broken English, "Well, are you awake?  
You gave us a good hunt.  
But I can't tell you're tough. You've got a gun.  
Don't worry, our eldest brother let us bury you, let you sleep in peace..."  
"Well, well..."  
Malenkee's instinct to survive kept her from breaking free, but to no avail.  
She was frightened and anxious, and her tears flowed ceaselessly.  
Dimi!  
Where are you!  
Her heart cried out.  
But suddenly it dawned on her -- perhaps it was all a trick, and she didn't need to think too carefully about the reason.  
He may be just a small pawn are not a character.  
She squirmed as the thugs chatted about things she didn't understand.  
The car stopped and everything was quiet.  
Malenkee felt himself lifted and thrown to the ground.  
There was the sound of the wind blowing through the trees, and what frightened her more was the sound of shovels...  
No, no...  
She squirmed away from them, but just turned in circles.  
She madly rubbed the rope from her hands again, but there was no movement.  
The spade stopped, and Malenkee was lifted up again and thrown into the pit.  
'Hmmm!  
She made a cry for help, which of course went unheeded.  
The shovelfuls of earth fell on top of the sacks. Malenkee felt cold and heavy. She tried to put her head out of the mound, but eventually it was covered.  
It's boring...  
It's so heavy...  
OK...  
She fell into bouts of coma...  
...  
The shovels didn't stop, but this time they were getting louder and louder...  
Near?  
Malenkee's weight began to lighten rapidly and he was lifted up whole.  
A pair of anxious hands pulled the sack from Malenkee's head and quickly tore the tape from her mouth.  
Malenkee's eyes were wide open, his mouth open, and he breathed the fresh forest air greedily.  
There was blood in the air.  
She looked aside. The two thugs had been killed.  
It smells of tobacco.  
She looked forward -- and sure enough it was Dimi.  
His anxious, self-accusing eyes were fixed on Malenkee.  
Malenkee couldn't breathe enough air, but she began to gasp again -- she sobbed and sobbed uncontrollably.  
The desperate terror of dying surrounded her. She wiped her eyes, but they were still blurred. "Where have you been?  
I've been out looking for you since noon, but I can't find you...  
I'm so scared, so scared...  
I want to go home..."  
"It's all right, we'll be right back."  
Dimi immediately replied.  
He lifted Malenkee into the car, and she was still crying, tugging at Dimi's sleeve.  
"I'll explain everything to you at home, won't I, Malenkee?"  
Dimi reached out and wiped away Malenkee's tears.  
Slowly, Malenkee let go.  
Dimi closed the door, got back in the driver's seat and started the car.  
The road is smooth.  
Malenkee kept sobbing in the back seat, but slowly, until he was tired of crying.  
Finally, the car stopped again -- this time at home.  
When Dimi opened the back door, Malenkee quickly reached out and wrapped her arms around Dimi's neck like a koala around a tree trunk, hanging on him.  
Dimi didn't complain. He just closed the door, locked the car, and hugged Malenkee, saying "It's all right" in her ear.  
The original Russian with ice and snow flavor at this time seems so soft and steady.  
Malenkee lay on Dimi's shoulder, still shaking slightly.  
There was music coming from one room. It was probably a party.  
Malenkee was not interested and allowed Dimi to send her to a dimly lit bedroom.  
Dimi put Malenkee to bed, and Malenkee quickly curled herself into a ball.  
Dimi stood there in the dim blue light.  
Malenkee looked at him -- and his eyes were different than they had been two days before.  
The coldness of two days ago had long since disappeared, replaced by chagrin, even purity.  
"Thank you..."  
Malenkee opened his mouth in a soft, mosquito-like voice.  
"You know me, you're welcome."  
Dimi lowered his head. "Forgive me, Malenkee.  
I've let you down.  
I said I showed up for you, but I didn't...  
That's why they caught you."  
Dimi looked out awkwardly and said, "Oh, I'm sorry. I have bad neighbors here. It's always noisy...  
But this is not the same place.  
We've got to keep more room, you know."  
Dimi pulled a stool and sat closer.  
Malenkee tried to sit up, but Dimi quickly stopped her. "Don't move, don't move, it's okay, you're safe, okay?  
I could have...  
I'm sorry I'm too late.  
But good thing I came and dug you up.  
I promise it won't happen again, okay?  
I swear on my life that I will protect your life as well as mine."  
Malenkee was surprised, but also pleasantly -- though she thought the surprise was a little mean -- to find that Dimi was swearing to her, though she wondered why.  
From the moment Dimi gave up killing herself, to the moment she made this decision, she doesn't understand.  
"I won't leave you again.  
I will come all the way to you to protect you."  
Malenkee nodded.  
"We can stay out there till it blows over, and then we'll move, and move, and move, until we get you to the Dynasty.  
It's a good place to hide, um...  
Their party party is over.  
The students..."  
Dimi sighed.  
At last it was quiet outside.  
He took a jumping knife out of his pocket and pressed it. The blade popped open with a snap.  
Malenkee quickly retreated toward the corner, and Dimi edged closer to her. "Malenkee, you won't like this, but it's for your own good...  
It hurts, don't move..."  
Dimi's blade reached out and drew slowly but hard over Malenkee's head.  
Malenkee gritted his teeth and let out a whimper.  
She broke out in a cold sweat, but it was over.  
Dimi removes some small chip from her head, looks at it in his hand, drops it on a nearby table, then fetches the cotton and presses Malenkee's wound.  
Malenkee looked at the bloody chip and became more curious about his own affairs.  
Who are you?  
Need such a big move?  
As his head grew numb, Dimi removed the cotton and smoothed the hair around the wound.  
He picked up the small chip with a pair of tweezers, took out a lighter and turned on the fire.  
The small chip slowly warped and shriveled.  
Dimi threw the chip to the ground and stepped on it.  
Malenkee threw a blank, puzzled look into his eyes.  
Dimi explained, "...  
Tracking devices."  
He held his head ruefully, his arms propped against the bed, and the sound of his heavy breathing beat Malenkee's heart.  
"You don't have to feel so guilty..."  
Malenkee said.  
Dimi didn't seem to hear a word. He looked up at the head of the bed, thought for a moment, and explained everything. "This device, I think, is the one you were on...  
Place, pretend.  
Then it was hacked into.  
So they could find you after I left you.  
I didn't even know it at first!  
I spent two days telling them a lie, only to be caught up in a moving signal that afternoon...  
I learned from another 'colleague' that someone else had been sent to look for you and take you to that wood.  
It took me a long time to lose my pursuers, and by the time I got there, you'd already been taken away...  
You're still wearing my jacket.  
They also took your gun, but I got it back.  
Here, keep it."  
Malenkee tucked the gun into the quilt like a treasure.  
"And I owe you an explanation."  
Dimi stood up. "I need a cigarette.  
Do you want?  
Don't?  
All right."  
Dimi lit up the smoke, its orange-red glow standing out against the bluish light.  
"You don't owe me an explanation, Dimi..."  
Malenkee stared at Dimi's gathered black hair.  
Dimi shook his head and sat down. "I owe you a story. Your story...  
HMM."  
The cigarette butt flared.  
"Malenkee, how much do you remember, anything?  
Yesterday, today?  
I sometimes can't remember what I had for breakfast.  
Do you remember when I said 'capable'?  
Someone is looking for you.  
I was sent to look for you."  
"Ability......"  
"Yes, you are special.  
You are the product of an ancient experiment, the US, the UK, the Soviet Union, etc., that was done long ago.  
This is a story about...  
Experiments in supernatural powers."  
Malenkee's jaw dropped, and Dimi noticed her expression. "You may not believe it, or find it hard to understand, but I have to tell you...  
To tell you.  
What they do is, they find people who are gifted, who are powerful, who are gifted, who are telepathic.  
And then, my Malenkee, you have the power.  
They have power everywhere, and they hunt for such men everywhere.  
But times have changed, and many things have changed.  
Their ambitions have changed, too.  
Now, they don't want to use your power. They want to take it away.  
I was supposed to track you down, kill you, take your cerebral cortex, give it back to them to study, to learn more about your abilities, your strengths.  
But when I looked at you, I realized I couldn't, I couldn't..."  
Dimi said, leaning back into the shadows, then a deep voice said, "Don't get me wrong, Malenkee. I've killed a lot of people. It's my job.  
But I've also saved a lot of lives, because that's my job.  
If your powers are awakened, you will help us all, and that is one of the reasons I must protect you."  
Dimi's face flashed in the light of the cigarette. Malenkee didn't ask questions. She kept listening.  
"I understand that you may not believe me, you may not trust me.  
But for now, at least, I'm asking you to stay with me.  
I promise I'll protect you.  
If you feel that what you need is not my protection but my loyalty and trust, then maybe I'm not showing it, and I hope I am."  
Dimi's cigarette was just a few puffs away.  
He leaned forward again, and Malenkee saw his haggard face.  
"Malenkee, listen to me. The most important thing now is to rest, okay?  
Forget for a moment about all this crazy stuff, where we are, what happened, what's going to happen."  
Malenkee tucked into bed with Dimi's jacket still on, a little uncomfortable, but thinking it would be all right for the night.  
And she nodded.  
Dimi sighed, with a sudden warmth in his eyes.  
"Now, I'll protect you. And when you're strong enough to protect yourself, then maybe you'll protect me, OK?"  
For some reason, Malenkee was moved by the words.  
"I will, Dimi!" she said solemnly.  
Dimi smiled. "You rest, then.  
When you feel better tomorrow, we'll move out.  
I have a friend at Dynasty who is really a good person and helps a lot of people.  
You can stay with her.  
I don't know if you want to come with me or not, it's up to you, you can do whatever you want..."  
'I think!  
Malenkee blurted out.  
Dimi looked down and smiled, then replied, "If you want me to be with you, you're going to have to listen to me."  
Malenkee nodded vigorously.  
She doesn't know, for now, what will happen when she leaves Dimi.  
She didn't want him to go, not even for a moment.  
Though she doesn't know why Dimi did it.  
But she was greedy, and she didn't want him to go.  
Dimi's face darkened again and he sat back down on his stool, close to Malenkee. "I hope you understand that when I say I'm sorry, I'm really sorry.  
But let me tell you, Malenkee, you are safe now.  
I won't let anyone hurt you, ever."  
He looked at the time and stood up. "Listen, if you want me to go, just say so. I promise I won't argue, I'll do as you say..."  
'Don't go!  
Malenkee replied sharply again.  
Dimi nodded, stepped aside to lock the window, and returned to the bed. "You'll sleep in bed tonight, and I'll sleep here, and I'll make sure you're okay.  
You will be safe, I promise."  
He kept repeating the word "safe" and tucked Malenkee in.  
Then he sat down near the Malenkee and said slowly, "You know, where I come from, we have a way to help people sleep."  
Tufts of hair hang down on either side of Dimi's forehead.  
Malenkee looked at his pensive profile.  
And he added softly, "If the children are noisy, or can't sleep, it's the way it's used. Many mothers and fathers have used it...  
Once upon a time, I had a child too...  
However......"  
Dimi paused for a moment, then smiled. "I'll tell you next time."  
Malenkee did not like this feeling.  
She may have figured out why Dimi was nice to her, but she didn't want to be treated like a child.  
She's a grown man.  
But for Dimi's sake, Malenkee doesn't raise any objections.  
Dimi took a napkin and gently brushed it over Malenkee's face. "Forget about it," he said softly.  
You're safe now...  
It's okay, you're safe...  
Dimi is right here...  
You're safe, Malenkee. I'll make sure you're safe...  
I swear..."  
Malenkee slowly became sleepy.  
"Go to sleep, sleep well and have sweet dreams.  
Everything will wait until tomorrow.  
Good night, Malenkee."  
Dimi removed the napkin, sat down in the corner, and closed his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Malenkee awoke from the heat.  
She eagerly threw back the covers, a little more relaxed, but still very stuffy.  
The cut on the head stung with sweat.  
She was sitting on the bed, still wearing her own clothes and her Dimi black jacket.  
But she didn't want to take it off.  
With a radio on the traditional table, Malenkee watched Dimi -- who was leaning against the wall, seemingly uncomfortably asleep -- and pressed the radio on.  
"There's been a sayin' goin' round  
And I begin to think it's true  
It's awful hard to love someone  
When they don't care about you  
Once I had a lovin' gal  
The sweetest little thing in town  
But now she's gone and left me  
She done turn me down  
Now I ain't got nobody, and nobody cares for me!  
That's why I'm sad and lonely,  
Won't somebody come and take a chance with me?  
I'll sing you love songs..."  
With the music, Dimi opens his eyes, but he sits there and moves, sighs, looks at the ground in front of him as if thinking about something, then takes a very old photo out of his pocket, looks at it, and smiles happily.  
But then his smile slowly solidified on his face, and he looked up at the ceiling, as if looking at the sky, revealing infinite longing.  
After a while he looked at the picture again and gave it a big kiss.  
Malenkee sat and watched.  
When the song was almost over, Dimi realized, and when he saw her, he smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Malenkee, I didn't notice you were awake.  
Oh, these days, I've been trying to take care of you...  
The Windows were closed and the room was heated, which was why it was so hot.  
Did you sleep well?"  
"Just fine."  
Malenkee looked curiously at his photo pocket, but Dimi didn't seem to have anything to explain.  
He turned down the radio.  
Malenkee has a headache. She scowls and touches her forehead. Dimi notices her expression and sits down in front of her, then observes her wound with concern.  
"One."  
"A - deen. Very good"  
Dimi smiled and then asked a few more times.  
Malenkee couldn't help but laugh. "Do you think my head was broken, Dimi?"  
"I did have to make sure, but it didn't look like anything."  
Dimi replied with a smile.  
"Was that Russian?"  
"Yes."  
Dimi finger-wicking, "A-deen, dva, tree. One, two, three."  
Malenkee looked at the earnest Dimi and laughed loudly, tilting his head to look at him.  
Dimi looked up and quickly reached out his hand. "No, don't move your head, Malenkee.  
You're still healing, but I'm glad you're almost done.  
We are all tired and I want to have a good night's sleep.  
Those students out there, partying as soon as they get back..."  
Dimi cleared the table. He looked at Malenkee, smiled and asked, "How are you feeling now?"  
"Much better, indeed."  
"That's good.  
It's okay. it's okay. don't worry. I'll always do my best to protect you.  
If my best isn't good enough, someone else will do the same..."  
His voice dropped as he spoke, and he seemed to fall back into memory again.  
Malenkee threw back the covers and sat cross-legged on the bed.  
Dimi took a tissue and wiped her sweat, then sat down and said, "I think it's time I told you more of the truth."  
"' Pravda '?"  
Malenkee tried to read the name of a newspaper she had seen on the subway. It seemed to be called Pravda.  
"Pravda. Da. (Truth.  
Right.)  
"Dimi smiled happily.  
Compared with a few days ago, he seemed like a different person. Dimi had lost all of his cool demeanor and was just a true Malenkee.  
He collected his mood and expression. "Malenkee," he said, "you mean a lot to the world, not just me. Very, very, more than you can imagine.  
Because you're so important, people and others...  
Things will come to use you.  
To be honest, I was sent to take advantage of you in the beginning, but when I realized what you meant, I couldn't do it...  
I told you, you were involved in a psychic experiment.  
In that experiment, I learned from my "boss" and some of the "secret services," that you are more capable than the others...  
You are what they call the 'eternal soul'.  
They want to use your abilities -- well, just one, or rather..."  
Again, Malenkee was baffled, only to understand the whole "I have super powers."  
But Dimi gushed: "You don't dwell on the form, or the gender, or whatever it is that makes a person a person. In fact, you can dwell on whatever you want.  
And not only can you do that, you can also travel.  
Yes, time travel..."  
Malenkee felt as though her mouth was open now, her jaw dropping. "Fake, huh?"  
"Pravda. It's true.  
It sounds like an Asimov novel, but it's true.  
They will use your power to play their own game, to hurt others, to falsify history.  
I have been informed of your plans, and believe me, Malenkee, you neither should nor will follow this path. '  
Dimi then looked back at Malenkee with a loving smile. "If it felt right to me, as soon as I saw you that day, I knew you were a good person.  
Because of this, I decided to tell you the truth.  
It was like a dream...  
Unbelievable.  
In your brain, you have a number of glands, different glands, and one of them is very small, which is connected to your third eye.  
Got it?  
And your sympathetic, parasympathetic, whatever...  
These things control these abilities.  
The reason those people want your neocortex is to study this further.  
So, you need to drink plenty of water, keep healthy, and always check your 'third eye'.  
You're connected to time, to everyone."  
"Are you hot, Dimi?"  
Malenkee asked suddenly.  
Dimi laughed. "Are you listening to me?"  
Malenkee affirms, "I will listen to you when you talk. Third eye, power, sympathetic nerves, water...  
But feel, I'm afraid you're hot."  
Malenkee points to Dimi's forehead, which is dripping with sweat.  
Dimi wipes it off, then holds a new one in his hand. "It's okay, Malenkee."  
He folded the paper and as he folded it he said, "You may be able to see eternity, your life and your death.  
Time goes up, also want to go down, time like a cone, also like a cylinder.  
When time collapses in, it gets so small..."  
Here he looked up at Malenkee, smiled, and said softly, "Malenkee."  
He held up the little ball of paper in his hand. "Small enough that you could eat it!"  
Malenkee was amused, and Dimi threw the little wad of paper into the trash can, then slowly grew serious: "Malenkee, the path they're going to force you to take is wrong. They're going to force you to time travel.  
Your soul travels through time, but your body doesn't.  
They will let you meet the most vicious people in history, the most greedy people.  
Well, I've never believed in fate, Malenkee, but the world hasn't collapsed just because they haven't succeeded in controlling you.  
So it's up to good people, and even bad ones like me, to protect you from stepping into their dirty fate."  
"I don't think you're a bad person, Dimi..."  
"Said Malenkee with genuine feeling.  
Dimi laughs self-deprecating and shakes his head. "You forget?  
I kill people for a living."  
Malenkee stopped talking.  
"They'll let you meet all kinds of strangers, people you don't know.  
Sorcerers, druids, sorcerers, Vikings, warlocks...  
You don't even know if these people exist.  
They will make you understand and learn their magic.  
But these magical people will also know you are coming, because everyone wants your power.  
So, Malenkee, you can never give this power away.  
Your eternal soul comes from the devil...  
It's bound to the world, and it's cursed forever.  
The curse is that you never know that your present soul has been reincarnated many times, and will continue to be so..."  
Malenkee murmured to himself, "I, have been reincarnated many times?"  
Dimi nod.  
He looked at Malenkee and smiled. "I'm glad I got to know you better in this time and place.  
But you must also travel, but do not give any of them your ability, so that you can become stronger.  
These, mystics and lunatics..."  
There seems to be a cloud around Malenkee, full of love and care and vows from Dimi.  
Malenkee did not interrupt him as he lowered his eyes and thought about something.  
After a while, Dimi raised his eyes again, with those warm eyes, and said, "You'll know the good guys from the bad guys.  
Because the good guys will let you go and the bad guys will let you stay."  
"So if I had to go now, would you let me go?"  
"Malenkee asked.  
She's unabashedly digging holes for Dimi. She knows Dimi will let her go, so he's not a bad guy.  
Dimi recognized the meaning, looked down and laughed, then joked, "Well then, Malenkee, I'm going to have to keep you with me!  
\-- Don't let those people win, Malenkee. Although your 'journey' may not be under your control at the beginning, when the day comes when you are ready for 'journey', I will be there for you and keep you safe.  
Because you are the smallest thing in the world, but the smallest thing is the most precious, because losing the smallest thing weighs heavily on your heart."  
"' Travel '..."  
Malenkee contemplated the great "abilities" he might have, and then asked earnestly, "Can I take you with me?"  
Dimi smiled and shook his head. "I'm not going to be there for you. I'm going to be here for you."  
Malenkee smiled.  
Dimi took a deep breath, then stood up, fished some rubles out of his pocket, put them back in, and muttered out to get some burgers.  
Malenkee leaned against the wall, watching Dimi's glasses reflect.  
But her good days were over.  
The gate burst open and a man in a black hood burst in.  
Malenkee had no time to pull out his pistol and defend himself before he heard the sound of a gunshot.  
Malenkee's ears were briefly covered, as if blocked, and she heard a dull fall.  
Her heart felt seized again, and she looked ahead --  
Is Dimi...  
He was struck on the right side of his neck, fell to the corner, twitched a few times, and then stopped moving.  
Malenkee's face and body were splashed with blood. She was stunned and shook her head mechanically.  
No, no, no, no...  
No way, no way, no way!!  
She flung herself to the ground and tried to cover the wound with her hand, but it was of no avail.  
Dimi's glasses slipped down to the end of his nose, and his body was still hot...  
With a merry dance twist, Blackhead moved over to the bedside table and turned up the radio.  
Malenkee could hear nothing, only her own crying in her ears, and only the color of blood in her eyes.  
She doesn't even know who she is, and only Dimi loves herself when she wakes up.  
She did not love whom he loved?  
And yet he died in front of his very eyes!  
Malenkee can't take it!  
She could not even remember her code name, "Malenkee."  
She's not a Malenkee anymore!  
A tsunami of helplessness engulfed her again, a sense of loss even greater than fear.  
Both arms were stained with blood, and the girl could not speak in pain.  
Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in her shoulder.  
Instinctively she flinched away as the black-headed cuff, holding a syringe, writhing close to her and nodding her cheek. "I hope you like bread soup...  
I hope you like sleeping too!"  
The girl's vision blurred, and Dimi faded before her eyes.  
The radio is singing:  
"Now I ain't got nobody and nobody cares about me."


	4. Chapter 4

When the girl woke up again, she was in a strange bedroom.  
In front of him was the bed, next to the bedside table and the window.  
The black-headed man who killed Dimi was holstered with a pistol.  
The girl, still wearing Dimi's jacket, leaned back -- strange!  
She still has her gun?  
Maybe the man was too excited to search himself.  
Blackhead noticed the girl and waved his hands nervously. "Hush, hush, there's no point in making a noise now, okay?  
HMM."  
He tapped his chest and added, "My name is Matt!  
Nice to meet you!  
My boss will be so happy, too!"  
"Your boss...  
Is that Dimi's boss?"  
"Asked the girl bitterly.  
Matt tilted his head. "Who's Dimi?"  
The girl stopped asking questions.  
"Ok!  
Listen, little darling."  
Matt held out his hand and waved. "My boss wants something from you, and he asked me to take you there.  
Until then, I think, we can get something else out of you!"  
The girl stared at the floor in disgust.  
"Guess!  
Matt said to himself, "Ransom!  
That's right, ransom!  
Aha, I've already sent a letter to the local security department, asking them to come and save you.  
But I'm not going to hand you over!"  
Matt jumped a few times in front of the girl, then suddenly stopped. "Oh!  
Right!  
Do you like bread soup?"  
Without waiting for an answer, he ran out of the room, and in a moment he was rushing into the house with a bowl of bread and water.  
He excitedly stirred the bowl of the unappetising food and scooped it up to feed to the girl.  
"I'd rather starve."  
The girl was fierce.  
Matt shrugged. "This can't be done!  
You're still needed!  
Drink up, little darling!"  
The girl refused to open her mouth.  
Matt said, "Hey!" Then he thought about it and said, "I'll tell you what!  
Why don't you take my bread soup and I'll tell the boss you've done a good job and ask him to untie you?"  
The girl thought about the gun she still carried on her body and could only promise him.  
Matt, even more excited than before, gave her all the bread soup, spoonful by spoonful.  
It was neither full nor good to eat, and the girl wondered why Matt had such a strong attachment to it.  
After feeding the bread soup, Matt called her "baby" happily and went out with the bowl. He did not return until evening.  
The girl could not sleep, her jacket still reminding her that someone had promised to protect her until she returned...  
Night had fallen, and she did not know where she was, nor could she hope for a reliable rescue.  
She squatted against the wall, but the tears did not flow, just looked out of the window.  
The window was completely closed and she couldn't open it.  
At that moment, Matt reentered, still holding a pair of pliers or garden scissors.  
His voice was a little reluctant. "Honey, I've got some bad news for you.  
Our local security services don't believe that letter, so I need a finger of yours to make them believe it.  
Oh, why are they so stubborn?"  
The girl recoiled instinctively at the sight of the black scissors, but Matt seized her bound hands and held them up to her. "Which one do you want to throw away?"  
'Leave me alone!  
'cried the girl.  
Matt shook his head. "Don't shout!  
Yes, our boss will shut your mouth again!  
Look, sweetie, don't we get along so well now?  
I don't want to do that.  
Well, if you don't want to, I'll take your place."  
Matt mumbled some rhyme or formula and counted it on his ten fingers until it landed on the fourth finger of the girl's left hand.  
"Well, that's it."  
Matt said, and immediately set up his large scissors.  
The girl closed her eyes, and a piercing pain followed.  
Tears of pain came to her eyes, but she did not shout -- she hoped to impress herself so that they might untie her.  
But that's losing a finger...  
The girl still made a "woo" sound and broke into a cold sweat.  
Finally, with a thud, it was all over.  
Matt searched the floor with his flashlight for the severed finger and picked it up with satisfaction.  
The girl's mind was frozen, the pain in her hand filled her nerves, and she saw chaos.  
"The head how suddenly good ache, hum, no matter."  
Matt put down the scissors, took the girl's hands and said, "Oops, I'm so sorry, but I think I cut too close to the root!"  
He brought some medical supplies to stop the bleeding and said, "I don't want you to die, baby, and my boss doesn't want you to die."  
"Don't call me that..."  
The girl's face was covered with cold sweat, but she fought back in her weakness.  
"Why, little darling?  
You are my little darling!"  
Matt said, leaning in.  
"Roll!  
Open!"  
The girl broke out and shouted.  
Matt seemed taken aback and backed away.  
He shook his head, stopped the bleeding, and said, "That won't do, dear. Who's going to take care of you if I go away?"  
"You just killed the man who took care of me, now you're asking me that?"  
The girl's voice was suddenly sad.  
Matt was nonchalant. "Who cares?  
All right, I'm going to turn in this little piece of evidence.  
Don't worry, I'll tell the boss to untie you!"  
The pain came not only from the hand, but also from the girl's heart.  
She really didn't know what to do.  
In the morning, Matt had not returned.  
She leaned against the glass and looked out of the window.  
She could not see the mark, she did not know where it was -- was she still in Nevsky Street?  
Is the Nevsky Street subway busy right now?  
Suddenly, she heard gunshots in the corridor outside, followed by a group of people Shouting something, like the police!  
The girl listened carefully, her hopes rising.  
Sure enough, there was the word "police" in the cry, and Matt's distinctive tone was mixed in.  
Then a few shots rang out, and several voices shouted excitedly, "We've got him!"  
The girl breathed a sigh of relief -- they seemed to have killed Matt.  
Footsteps from the police came to the door. They knocked on it. 'Is there anyone in there?  
We are the St. Petersburg police!  
About a homicide on Nevsky Avenue, we believe you're involved!  
Hello!"  
'Someone!  
"Cried the girl.  
The policeman outside got excited too: "Girl, get away from the door!"  
As he spoke, several shots were fired at the door.  
However, the moment the girl had to wait for the broken door, there was a panic outside the police door, some even screamed a few times.  
'You're a ghost!  
The girl did not know what had happened, then another shot rang out.  
Then all was quiet.  
The girl froze where she was when the door opened and it was Matt.  
He and the girl on the eye of the moment, immediately back a step, called 1: "good pain!"  
He put his hand to his forehead.  
"You......  
?"  
'I seem to have had a headache since I met you, my dear!  
Matt said to himself, "Looks like we'll have to move."  
And with that he strode out of the room, dragging her by the arm.  
The girl did not understand. Was he not dead?  
Had the police made a mistake?  
But as it turned out, she was mistaken.  
Matt would literally, under siege, run at his opponent with a flourish, get shot and fall to the ground, then get up and take out all of his enemies in a state of shock and horror.  
They moved several times, each time the same fate for investigators tracking down the last wave of victims.  
Some girls saw it with their own eyes, some even remembered it.  
But one thing hasn't changed -- Matt keeps calling himself "baby."  
The girl was disgusted, very disgusted, especially disgusted by his claim to "take care of himself."  
At such times, she would notice her tied hands, her missing fingers, and Dimi's jacket.  
The girl had no idea that she was taken so far this time.  
It took her a long bus ride, a long plane ride, and several trips around the bus until the time difference got over her, and she was finally taken to her destination.  
Of course, she wasn't tied down during the trip, but Matt kept an eye on her, like a man who has too much control over his girlfriend.  
As for her gun, Matt had not moved and she did not want to hide it. It was not a threat to Matt anyway, so she was not afraid he would know about it.  
On this day, Matt was sitting by the radiator, and the girl was still strapped up on the other side.  
He changed his look -- he took a pair of black stockings and pulled them upside down over his head, making his pant legs look like two long ears, like a strange rabbit, and then he found a pair of goggles out of nowhere.  
This made the girl doubt whether he could see even what was right in front of her.  
"Darling, I have something to ask you."  
"You say."  
The girl was taken away by him for some time, and his "boss" never seemed to appear.  
She did not know if the ransom Matt wanted had been received, but she had been fed bread and soup by Matt and felt no material change.  
And in the meantime, in addition to seeing Matt bizarrely come back from the dead many times, she's learned a lesson -- don't talk against him.  
It wasn't that he was angry. On the contrary, after cutting off his finger, Matt treated himself better. He never even searched her, and the silver gun was still there.  
Of course, keeping your hands tied isn't part of what's good for you.  
The reason you don't want to talk against him is because if you do, Matt will talk until you talk along with him.  
The girl did not want to hear him say even a word more, so she had to choose the one with the fewer words.  
"Tell me, my dear, how many lives do you have?"  
The girl thought she had heard the stupidest question in the world, but on reflection it did not seem like common sense to Matt, so she answered, "One."  
Underneath his pantyhose Matt's eyes widened predictably. "What??"  
"Just one."  
"You only have one life??"  
"Yes, just one."  
"Ouch!  
Matt grabbed his ears and shook his head ruefully. "You nearly died several times!"  
"Yes."  
"Little darling!  
Why did you tell me earlier!  
You're so special!  
How could I let you die! '  
Matt's face turned to the girl.  
It seemed to her that Matt could see clearly.  
"What's so special about me?"  
"Asked the girl.  
Matt hadn't changed his tune all this time. He kept calling himself Babe, which she didn't like, but she was glad he didn't know Russian and didn't call her Malenkee.  
The girl's heart twitched at the thought of this nickname.  
"You are really special!"  
Matt moved closer. "So special that I have to take care of you!"  
The girl began to lose patience, as she always did when she heard Matt say he had to take care of herself.  
He killed the one who could really take care of himself and love himself, but he kept saying those words.  
Matt leaned his back against the radiator and thought for a moment, muttering, "This is so good, I should have known I'd been nicer to you...  
Little baby...  
You've nearly died several times!  
If you do something wrong, won't you lose your chance?  
No......  
No, no..."  
The girl gave Matt a strange look.  
Does this person have any obsession with himself?  
Those ten thousand "little baby" calls got the girl's ears, but he was still happy with it, and more and more sweet to himself, which made the girl feel very uncomfortable.  
Matt snapped his fingers. "I know!"  
Then he thrust his hand under his coat and began to struggle.  
The girl was frightened by him and did not know what he was doing.  
Matt looked like he was having a seizure, but his hand never came out.  
"Matt, Matt...  
Out of basic humanitarian concern, she called out Matt's name twice.  
Finally, Matt stopped struggling, let out a giggle and pulled his hand away. To her utter horror, he held a beating heart in his hand.  
'Here you are!  
Matt enthusiastically offered his heart.  
The girl leaned back again and again to avoid the steaming red meat, which was still alive.  
Matt did not give up, but directed his heart straight at the girl's eyes. "Take this, little darling.  
So you have two lives!  
Then you'll have one more chance and more room to make mistakes!  
If I do something wrong -- it doesn't matter, I still have a life! '  
That sounds very tempting.  
The girl was scared, but then she thought -- you, Matt, owed me your life, even if it wasn't yours.  
So the girl sat up straight and did not retort.  
When Matt saw that she was ready to accept, he laughed and pushed his hand forward sharply.  
As the girl's throat warmed, she felt something gurgling down her throat, and then her chest warmed and she was calm again.  
She touched her chest and was wondering when Matt leaned in. "Feeling all right?  
I should have given you this long ago, little darling!"  
"What the hell are you?  
Satisfied, the girl asked the question.  
"My boss will tell you!"  
Matt nodded his head nervously.  
The girl looked at him and sneered: "It's strange that you have so much life, but do you have so much heart?  
Nothing grows in your body except your heart?"  
"My boss will tell you!"  
"Matt repeated.  
The girl shook her head -- there seemed to be nothing to ask.  
She wondered if Matt was the same "capable" person as she was, maybe.  
Matt, still in his overexuberant state, leaned forward mysteriously and said, "You know, little darling, when I realized how special you were, I swore that as long as my heart was beating, I would..."  
The words were scarcely finished when the familiar scene happened again.  
The girl has seen it all.  
Matt relies on his ability to resurrect, always on the tracker is not enough attention, this time again.  
A group of men burst through the front door, and the leader shot Matt and picked the girl up.  
The girl rolled her eyes and waited for Matt to get up.  
...  
Matt?  
The girl looked curiously at Matt, and the man who had picked her up sneered and dragged her away.  
Matt didn't get up again...  
The girl's brain went dead, and she let the leader lead her out and put her in the car.


	5. Chapter 5

When the girl saw the circle of tall fence and the words on it, she actually felt a little relieved -- this was one of the FBI bases.  
She was thoroughly checked out this time and put into a prisoner's uniform, so of course Dimi's jacket was taken away, as was the gun.  
The doctors treated her wounds, which made her miss Dimi again.  
Then she was locked up.  
It was now the autumn of the following year.  
Even she had no idea that Matt had carried her for so long.  
She even wondered for countless times whether the "boss" existed or not.  
But every time Matt's steadfast tone made it impossible for her to doubt.  
A few days later, when she was lifted out with handcuffs instead of ropes, the girl wondered if she should feel any more comfortable.  
She was taken to an interrogation room with dark decor and light and sat down, her hands resting on the baffle in front of a chair in front of a table across from the man who had led the shooting that day.  
He was wearing a suit, and his hair was parted in 37 parts, with no discernable trace of grey or silver.  
His face was so ugly that the girl began to feel nervous.  
The man opposite gave her a look, a dramatic lip hook, and then showed her the file on the desktop. "Nothing, just some information you already know."  
The girl caught sight of the "MALENKEE" written across the front of the document and began to breathe hard.  
As Dimi said, "they" have power everywhere, so it's not surprising to find out.  
She's just thinking about Dimi.  
"Today is very hot ah, it seems that the weather is really getting warmer.  
Hello, I'm Special Agent Philip Graves. Welcome to Quantico."  
Graves spread his hand.  
Quantico,...  
The girl thought of the name, as if it were a military base in Virginia.  
So it was here...  
She nodded abruptly.  
"Was the journey very tiring?  
It took us a long time to find you, but we did. You're safe now.  
What about this document? It's an ongoing report. We have a special study of serial killer cases and patterns of behavior.  
So, today, let's take our time and talk about you.  
Do some interviews, talk about common sense, talk about things you've been through."  
Graves kept blinking as if his head was bothering him, but he continued to look at the papers on the desktop. "According to our records, you were being cared for in a research facility, and the doctor who was looking after you was killed while you were there."  
"I don't remember."  
The girl shook her head.  
Graves ignored her. "And then, here's Dimitri Kerr...  
Well, Mr. Klettverschluss, I beg your pardon if I mispronounce it.  
This, Mr. Klettverschluss, rescued you from this facility.  
While you were in care, you went through a series of tests, maybe scientific, maybe not so scientific. I'm not a scientist.  
Anyway, this Dimitri Klettverschluss saved you, or didn't save, stole you, tied you up.  
Then he hid you for a few days. Am I right? '  
"I don't remember the facilities.  
Dimi didn't kidnap me.  
He saved me."  
The girl was a little excited.  
Graves, still unresponsive, looked down at his file. "Then, you were kidnapped again, suspect, now known only as' Matt, 'right?"  
"Yes."  
"He killed Mr. Klettverschluss, the hand that moved before your eyes, didn't he?"  
Graves gave a strange smile.  
"...  
Yes."  
The girl's breath strained.  
Graves did not seem to be feeling much better. He kept touching his forehead and nose and continued: "So many deaths!  
This boring little criminal, Matt, took you under his wing and led you around for a long time before he too was killed.  
Now, we know that Matt killed your nurse doctor, right?"  
"I don't know.  
I don't remember."  
"Replied the girl.  
"In this facility, they do all kinds of 'scientific experiments,' and then this, the Mafia, the low-ranking kind of gangsters..."  
"Dimi is the doctor."  
The girl interrupted Graves, who touched his forehead and, after a brief pause, continued: "Rogue.  
After he took you away, Matt took you to the United States and went on a killing spree.  
We're not sure what his motives were.  
But it's all about you.  
After that, we killed him."  
"Maybe."  
The girl suddenly remembered what Dimi had said about "something else" and "demons" and began to think about one thing -- why was this man able to really kill Matt?  
She began to think there was something wrong with this Graves.  
Graves looked up at her, smiled, and said, "So far, we have Matt's track record, and the CIA has quite a bit of Mr. Klettverschluss. He seems to be involved in something else. Even Interpol is looking at him, who knows?  
Maybe we'll exchange information later."  
He kept blinking. "And after all this strange stuff, we found you at Matt's.  
Here, you can get full protection.  
And I am happy to inform you that the vast majority of my cases end in 'guilty'."  
Graves's smile reminded her of a clown poster at the Nevsky Street subway station -- not happy, but scary.  
"So now, I would like to confirm with you the truth of these facts.  
Just now you have answered, but the testimony of witnesses is not necessarily that reliable.  
So, I'm gonna put you on a lie detector.  
The heart doesn't lie.  
Is your heart well?"  
Graves blinked, stared at the girl for two full minutes, and then laughed again.  
He switched on the recorder nearby. "This is Special Agent Philip Graves taking a polygraph test on the subject of 'Malenkee,' file 699."  
Then he began to put various patches on the girl's face and neck. After a while he said, "Some of the questions I'm going to ask, which may be very unusual or very unusual, are just to test your resting and abnormal heart rate. Do you understand?"  
"Good."  
Graves took out a pen and paper and began to ask questions.  
'What's your name?  
"I don't remember."  
'How old are you?  
"I don't remember."  
"Do you like blue?  
"Yes."  
"Do you know a man named Matt?"  
"Yes."  
"Do you know a man named Dimitri Klettverschluss?  
Or 'Dimi' or something."  
"Know..."  
"Do you like cats?  
"Yes."  
"Were you born in Germany?  
"I don't know."  
"Can you drive?"  
"I can't."  
'Have you ever killed anyone?  
"I don't know."  
"Have you ever acted supernatural?  
"I don't know."  
"Do you know who your nurse is?"  
"No."  
"Do you know someone named Dimi?"  
"Know..."  
"Is the sky blue?  
"Usually."  
"Are oranges yellow?"  
"Yes."  
Graves' eyes blinked more and more, and finally he had to stop. "Sorry, I've got a headache."  
His mouth twisted a few times, then he looked at the girl coldly, and in a slightly husky, low voice he continued:  
'Have you seen me before?  
"...  
I think so."  
'Do you remember anything before you were alive?  
Graves stared hard at the girl, but the hand that recorded the answer kept writing.  
The girl felt more and more horror in Graves, but could only answer:  
"No."  
'Do you remember the afterlife?  
"No."  
The needle of the polygraph machine keeps sliding.  
Graves glanced at it, then gave the girl a hostile look. "Why did you lie to me?"  
Anger flared up inside the girl -- she was telling the truth, even ignoring the fact that he seemed to have asked Dimi twice on purpose.  
Graves, on the other hand, apparently fumed and turned off both the polygraph and the tape recorder: "The polygraph is terminated."  
Then he printed out the transcript of the polygraph test and read it. "It's all bullshit," he said impatiently.  
His headache seemed to be getting worse. He even sort of recklessly wiped his eyes on his polygraph record, then threw it away in a ball: "I'm not going to get much out of this stuff."  
He removed the patch from her body. "I'm telling you, I've been honest with you and I want to help you.  
You are safe now and these things will never happen again."  
The girl coughed sharply -- she was already having a post-traumatic stress response to the words.  
Each time she heard it again, Dimi's image of being shot down flashed before her eyes.  
"But you must lie to me."  
Graves held up the file, with a strange occult symbol painted on the cover.  
The girl stared -- who the hell was Graves?  
What on earth does he want?  
"We know who you really are.  
Trust me, we do want to help you.  
But if you don't cooperate, it's difficult."  
Graves' pale face came close, but his voice was so low that the girl could hardly hear it. It was like talking in her sleep. "The madman...  
He's Russian or English, generations after generations of killers...  
You're the only one he doesn't kill. What does that, Dimitri, mean to you?  
He didn't kill you.  
And Matt, don't you think he's special to you too?  
These killers, murderers, criminals...  
All the people...  
All the people...  
But it doesn't move you."  
Graves stared at the visibly changed girl for a moment, then said slowly, "That's all for today.  
We've got a room for you, but don't make yourself too comfortable.  
See you later, Malenkee."  
'Don't call me that!  
"Cried the girl suddenly.  
Still as if he hadn't heard, Graves packed up his files and left.  
The room the FBI had prepared for the girl was clean and quiet, but her mind was full of disorderly voices.  
Graves' last question upset her -- of course what it meant!  
How could it mean nothing?  
As for Matt, she didn't care. Every time she thought of him, all she wanted was his finger back. As for the heart, he owed it to her.  
The food here is not bad, at least not from the bread soup malnutrition.  
A few days later, she was rearraigned.  
Graves looks much fresher.  
He brought a large box of what might be evidence to one side and then asked the girl opposite, "Good morning. How is our distinguished guest this morning?"  
"Just fine."  
"That's good."  
Graves pulled a note out of his pocket that the girl had thrown out the window trying to call for help.  
After feeling suspicious about Graves, she didn't want to stay long.  
"Excellent try, but try again next time."  
Graves smiled and threw the note into the trash can.  
He took out his lighter and cigarette. "We will continue today with what happened to you, and how thoroughly we will tell it depends on how much philosophy we talk about.  
Can I have a cigarette?  
Not that you have a choice."  
With these words he lit his cigarette.  
The girl hadn't smelled smoke for a long time. Matt didn't smoke.  
She's not disgusted, but she just thinks it's the same smell as Dimi's.  
"I could have given you one, but you're not allowed to smoke, bureau policy."  
Graves grinned like a horror clown. "Talk about a polygraph test, right?  
Have we found out anything new about you?  
Or about me?  
That's strange, isn't it?"  
She tried to get used to his rambling way of speaking, but listened -- he spoke at least a little more logically than Matt.  
Graves took a few puffs on his cigarette, then put on a show of force. "Listen, let's not talk shit today, agree?  
Let's make a deal. I'll tell you everything I know, and you don't have to tell the truth. You just do what I ask you to do, okay?  
You see, it is so hot today, we are all tired and exhausted.  
We've all got a lot on our minds, so why don't we get the business done as soon as possible?  
Find out who's behind it.  
What do you say?"  
The girl did not know what he was going to do, but leaned on the back of her chair warily and stared at Graves.  
"Don't worry. It's not going to be fun today. It's just going down memory lane."  
Graves took the first item out of the box. It was a small black pistol.  
"Do you recognize this?  
I recognize them, and I'm sure you do too."  
"Yes."  
"It's your friend, Matt's."  
"He's not my friend."  
'retorted the girl.  
"That's a bit heartless, you're the only one he doesn't kill -- a lot of people with that little hand, huh?"  
Graves looked at the little pistol and pointed his cigarette at the girl. "You saw quite a few of them, didn't you?  
According to our records, you witnessed Matt's "second birth" several times?  
But that can't be true, can it?  
It's all your lies.  
You don't get up and walk away with a bullet in the head."  
Graves put down the gun and smiled at the girl. "That hurts.  
Gotta buy some painkillers."  
The girl was actually so amused by the poor and terrible joke that she twitched the corner of her mouth a little, but Graves stopped joking and added: "I've said it, no bullshit.  
Matt is a mystery to us.  
We don't know his motives, and honestly, we don't care.  
He's dead.  
I don't think you like him much, but he's obviously got a weak spot, you."  
Graves put away the little black pistol.  
Then he took out another one -- the gun the girl knew so well. It had a long silver barrel and a black handle. It was hers, Dimi had given her.  
"Look at this, oh!  
Do you recognize this?  
This is the gun you found on you."  
Graves' tone was cheerful. "Have you used it?"  
"No."  
Graves raised his eyebrows and said to the girl, "You know what?  
It's really easy to see if a weapon has been fired."  
'Gunpowder residue?  
"No, no, not that."  
Graves' smile got weirder. "You fired. Someone was going to die, weren't you?"  
He put away the evidence again, reached into the box, and said, "Come on, give me something important that I think you'll like. Maybe it will help you see the situation a little more clearly."  
His hand came out, and in it was something that made the girl feel as if she were being strangled.  
Those are Dimi's glasses.  
"You remember these glasses?"  
Graves, who had been visibly shaken by Dimi during a previous interrogation, deliberately shook the glasses in front of her face. "These are for your man Dimi Dimitri," he said.  
The girl knew it was common in the army to call her "your people" and "my people," but her heart shook a little.  
"Now, let me tell you, unlike Matt, we exchanged information with the CIA.  
Now we have a huge amount of information about Dimitri.  
Do you want to hear it?"  
"Graves said" sincerely "with a fake look.  
He zipped open the evidence bag and leaned forward. "Fuck the rules!  
Do you want to keep this?  
A little memento of your gang friend."  
The girl's eyes can not be separated from those glasses, and she can not forget the eyes behind the glasses -- the eyes that love her.  
She could tell.  
Although she felt that she was a substitute.  
But she still missed him.  
The girl's eyes blurred as she stared at her cold glasses.  
Graves, seeing this, put down his glasses and pushed them forward. "It's all right. I won't tell anyone.  
Here you are. Keep it."  
Her hands and body were shackled with handcuffs and a chair, so she still couldn't reach the glasses, but they were right under her nose, very close.  
She stopped looking at Graves.  
A few tears fell.  
"Where were we?  
Ah yes, your friend, Mr. Klettverschluss, it is obviously a false name.  
And he said he was Russian, right?  
Well, he wasn't telling the truth either."  
Graves began to talk about Dimi, which shifted the girl's attention to him again.  
She looked up and listened carefully.  
"Dimitri was born in Russia, actually in Tver.  
That's where he lived when he was a, uh, little gangster, Russian baby.  
Later, the family moved to East Germany.  
Why is that?  
Because of their lineage and faith, they not only moved, but also changed their last names.  
They want to cover up their cultural traditions because of the prejudice they receive.  
In those days, East Germany was safer."  
The miscellany of common sense that the girl had not forgotten was called into play again.  
She thought about it and asked, "Dimi, Jewish?"  
"Yes, he is a Jew.  
Of course, you don't have to hide anything now, and you ought to.  
But it was different then.  
In short, your dear Mr. Klettverschluss was, at any rate, a good man at that time.  
Dimitri used to be a veterinarian -- but then, he cured people, you see -- but anyway, he helped people, a lot of people and animals."  
Graves paused, then said, "He has a small family.  
One wife and one daughter."  
The girl understood at once.  
"In the late '80s, there was a trend, some cult activities arose, a lot of small groups sprang up.  
People seem to be interested in that world for some reason."  
Graves smiled. "It's crazy, right?  
It's interesting..."  
Graves' smile got weirder and weirder.  
He picked up a Dimi glasses to her: "say so, you're the Dimi, start and these are has nothing to do, until there is a small cult gangs of unknown, what is the name, do you know their names and stupid, but it's not important, they listen to clear, kidnapped his wife and daughter, sacrifice them away."  
The girl looked at the Dimi glasses in Graves' hand and digested these heavy facts.  
She grew more and more distressed.  
"You know the context of The Times, so Interpol, the CIA, the KGB, they had to blame the German authorities, they didn't want any kind of 'cult' to come out and cause any PR problems.  
This is an opportunity.  
So your Dimitri is wearing this..."  
Graves took the gun out of the box and shook it again. "Found the cult, went in, fired his guns, killed thirty-two people and bloodied the cult."  
There was nothing stirring in the girl's heart -- she even thought it heroic.  
But Graves still seems to be trying to strike a rueful tone: "Can you imagine?  
He took the lives of thirty-two people?  
What kind of man can do such a thing?  
Is this a human thing?  
He killed them, but to no avail, and his family had been brutally sacrificed.  
Wife, take it in big pieces.  
Daughter, burn alive.  
It broke him. It brought him down.  
He felt that life has no meaning and pursuit, it is better to directly become the tool of cruelty.  
It was at that time that he returned to St. Petersburg, Russia, joined the Russian Mafia, began various assassination missions, and became the go-to man for all kinds of crime."  
"I don't know if it makes him look good or bad, and it's not for me to judge, but I think you need to know who he is and why he is that way."  
"He's still a good man to me, Agent Graves."  
The girl answered coldly, lifting her hands and wiping her eyes.  
Graves shrugged. "All right.  
I told you about him, so you'll have to do what I tell you.  
Passion drives all crazy crimes, and so does change.  
Change is the only inevitable thing in life, whether you want it or not, you know what I'm saying?  
Change is the only thing knowable. If you resist change, you resist progress. If you resist progress, what are you?  
Say, don't talk nonsense.  
I want to make it clear to you that we are not some crazy fascist organization or anything like that, we are only interested in the future progress of mankind.  
Part of this is taking what we have.  
So, I'm going to use a trick I learned in the army to get you 'active'.  
For you are the change itself.  
You can take a 'trip' without leaving the house.  
You can see things that humans can't see. You can have a thousand people on you in a day and still be home in time for Mom's cereal."  
Graves pulls out a laser pointer, turns it on and makes two circles on the wall. "I'm going to shine this into your eyes -- it's still a dangerous thing, and you don't want to learn it."  
He smiled and moved the laser point to the girl's neck.  
"This is our 'cure' for prisoners of war.  
Usually they can't stand it, or they go blind!"  
Graves toying with the laser pointer. "But if you have the ability, it doesn't matter -- but it must hurt, too.  
You won't like this, but it will excite your pineal gland and open your bloody third eye..."  
As he spoke, a red light shone through.  
The girl instinctively closed her eyes and Graves said, a little impatiently, "Open your eyes!  
Damn......"  
"You have to travel."  
Dimi's words rang in the girl's ear.  
She breathed fast, his unintelligible Russian in her head.  
Graves was still urging her to open her eyes.  
No one is coming to save her, it's all up to you...  
She caught her breath and opened her eyes.  
"Is it uncomfortable?  
He looks like he's in a lot of pain.  
But it's important for our research."  
Graves flashed the girl's eyes from time to time. "You just need to keep your eyes open and take a little trip..."  
"Are you ready?" he grinned as he moved the laser pointer.  
Malenkee?"  
"Malenkee", "Malenkee"...  
A lot of things came into the girl's eyes -- like a movie on a hundred times run -- and the strange thing was that she could see them all clearly and clearly.  
But she could still hear Graves' voice.  
"You'll meet a whole bunch of freaks in history, some you don't know, some you know...  
That's cool!  
I can make you do things no one else can do...  
Astaroth demons...  
Astaroth......"  
Graves' words began to look strange again.  
As the laser pointer flashed across the girl's eyes again, she felt consciousness fly away, and Graves' voice became inarticulate.  
"Fast...  
Grasping the...  
You can meet a Viking first, or a wizard...  
John Dee is an egomaniac, don't let him control you...  
And Anton Levy, he's important...  
Go......  
Talk to them...  
Learn more from them...  
We shall meet again soon..."  
The girl felt that her mind had completely flown out of the base, traveling back and forth through thousands of years -- Celtic doctors in Roman times, Viking seers in Anglo-Saxon times, queen courtier in Elizabethan times...  
The alchemists of the Plantagenet era...  
Victorian occult initiator...  
She has learned a lot in a short time, but she still remembers the words, "Never surrender your power."  
She seemed to have changed a lot. She knew more, she learned more, and she seemed to have more control over it.  
She even managed to catch a glimpse of what had happened to Matt, to understand why he had turned out the way he did -- he was a miner who had lived on bread and soup in a poor family, and "little darling" was the nickname he used for his wife.  
Just one night, a voice came to Matt's ear asking him to open his mouth, and he did so as if he had been possessed, and ever since, he has been part of that evil, an undead perversion.  
The girl's dislike of Matt lessened a bit, but more questions arose in her mind -- what ability did Graves have to destroy the evil blessing of Matt?  
Was that the "Astaroth" of Graves' mouth?  
Or is it the demon Dimi talked about?  
Are they one thing?  
The girl thought of this and did not understand, so did not continue to think, but continued to shuttle back and forth.  
"I won't be here to help you. I'll be here waiting for you."  
This sentence has been in the girl's mind.  
The latter part, she knew, would not come true.  
Only the strange Graves was waiting for her in the interrogation room.  
The girl did not know how long she had spent in the hut, but she did not care.  
She was going to see East Germany.


	6. Chapter 6

East Germany at the end of the 1980s always seemed a little quiet and low-key, full of cold and quiet atmosphere.  
Alexsey Morozov rushed to Dimitri Ellenburg with her arms outstretched on the Platz Alexandria in East Berlin's Mittenburg district with a warm blessing of twelve minutes.  
"Alexsey!"  
Dimitri recoiled as he hit him, but laughed happily.  
He was a clean-looking young man with long hair, a simple ponytail, and square-rimmed glasses, not at all weak, though scholarly, looking open and strong.  
"I can still remember when you got into college -- oh my God!  
You know, not one in ten people!  
Now you've graduated and got a job!  
Isn't it?  
The venerable Dr. Klettverschluss?"  
Alexsey briskly patted Dimitri on the shoulder.  
"Aren't your workmen satisfied?"  
Dimitri makes fun of Alexsey.  
'Of course I'm fine!  
Only, how time flies!"  
Alexsey sighed, seemingly lost in memory, and then whispered to Dimitri, "How much do you remember about Tver?"  
"Talk a lot, talk a little...  
After all, I spent my childhood there, but it's been so many years.  
I can't even remember what I had for breakfast this morning."  
"Dimitri quips.  
Alexsey laughed again. "My good doctor!  
How come you have such a bad memory?  
If that's what you say, don't be a veterinarian. How many poor animals will be poisoned!"  
"I'm sure you can't remember all the factory rules now!"  
Dimitri shot back.  
Two young men were walking along the edge of Alexandria Square, talking and laughing.  
Alexsey is a friend of Dimitri's who moved from Tver to East Berlin with him. They grew up together, along with his wife Nikita Morozov, who is now a colleague of Dimitri's, not as a vet, but as a cleaner. Dimitri didn't know her at first, but later learned of their relationship.  
Originally, Alexsey going to watch a film about Dimitri came out, celebrate he stepped into the medical industry, to save the animals - and maybe also can save point, by the way, but unless special brazen, or is about to die, or just deal with trauma, will dare to let Dimitri veterinary ability cure - as a result, both of them are not interested in recent films, then can only about Alexander square for a walk.  
However, walking is also fun when friends are together.  
"By the way, Dimitri, Nikita and I recently joined a secret club. Would you like to check it out?"  
"That sounds terrible. Where?"  
Alexsey looked around and whispered to Dimitri. "There are people like us who moved to East Germany," she said. "We can speak Russian with ease, use our real names, trust each other and help each other with anything.  
It's tough right now, and I thought it would be nice to have a place like this, so I wanted to recommend it to you."  
"Sounds good, only it doesn't sound very safe..."  
Dimitri said a little apprehensively.  
Alexsey shrugs: "We're not breaking the law, we're just hiding together to avoid discrimination...  
If they are discovered, it is only the cultural background that has been exposed.  
If you're really worried about that, forget it.  
But I think you'll like it, together with your wife."  
"Alexsey just said," Aah! "and slapped her mouth. Even Dimitri laughed:" What's wrong with you?  
She has a Russian name, but she's a native of East Germany, so why do you want her here?  
And I couldn't have her running around pregnant, even if she came from the same town! '  
"Your family is so happy."  
Alexsey said: 'I've known you for a long time, but starting a family has gone so well.'  
"If you keep saying this, I will Sue Nikita Zakharovna."  
Dimitri giggles.  
'You tell her to go!  
"She works with you every day, and I was afraid you'd run away with her!"  
Two spirited young men were talking about family and life in Alexandria Square.  
Eventually, Dimitri decided to check it out with Alexsey.  
The club was in an apartment not far from the Palace of the Republic.  
One Saturday night, Alexsey took Dimitri to the door, knocked on it and waved in front of the cat's eyelid before the door opened.  
Alexsey made a "come in" gesture and said gravely,  
"Dimitri, welcome to Dynasty!"  
"Dynasty" is an interesting name. Dimitri nods and walks in. Alexsey follows and closes the door.  
The room was lively, with groups of people gathering in twos and threes, some playing cards, some drinking, others just chatting happily.  
Inside, a trim young woman noticed Alexsey and Dimitri. She jumped up and hugged Alexsey. "Alyosha!  
Here you are at last.  
I thought something had happened to you on the way, but now you're going to meet someone."  
Then she turned to Dimitri: "Dimitri Petrovic!  
\- Oh, how nice it is to call your father's name to your face!  
Pe-tro-vic!"  
The woman slowly bites out Dimitri's father's name.  
"Good evening, Nikita Zakharovna."  
Dimitri responded with a smile.  
At work they called each other "Dr. Klettverschluss" and "Madame Morozov," or sometimes "Dimitri" and "Nikita." But given their familiarity and working relationship, it would have been the true Russian custom to call each other by first name and father name.  
On the turntable was playing an old French song from the sixties, "La Maritza" :  
La Maritza, c'est ma rivière  
Comme la Seine est la tienne  
Mais il n'y a que mon père  
Maintenant qui s'en souvienne  
Quelquefois  
De mes dix premières années  
Il ne me reste plus rien  
Pas la plus pauvre poupée  
Plus rien qu'un petit refrain  
D'autrefois  
Tous les oiseaux de ma rivière  
Nous chantaient la liberté  
Moi je ne comprenais guère  
Mais mon père, lui, savait  
Écouter  
(The Maritza River, the river of my life  
As the Seine is to you  
But now there's no one else  
Only the father  
I talk about it occasionally  
The first ten years of my life  
No memories  
Can't even remember the most common doll  
The clearest impression of all is that of the distant past  
The faint chorus)  
It is obviously a French song, but the melody has a strong hometown flavor.  
Dimitri was entranced.  
"It was sung by a Bulgarian singer."  
Nikita explained to Dimitri, "She misses home."  
"Maybe it would be better for us to replace the Seine with the Rhine."  
Dimitri says with a wry smile.  
Alexsey interrupts their conversation by grabbing a bottle of wine from the nearby bar. "Oops, say something bad, come on, have a drink, let's be happy, we're off tomorrow anyway!"  
"Drink less, smoke less..."  
Dimitri's occupational disease made, began to educate people, Alexsey not only did not comply, but also lit a cigarette, the lighter stretched under Dimitri's eyes "click" closed.  
Dimitri smiled helplessly.  
Nikita shook her head. "You see, Dimitri Petrovic, that's what he does at home!  
How I envy your wife! '  
As she joked, she pushed Alexsey.  
"Yes, the culture and sports character appearance, all good, but how do you have a crush on me?"  
Alexsey was smoking a cigarette and playing scoundrel on his wife.  
Nikita hit him with a mixture of anger and laughter.  
Alexsey laughed and dodged, scattering ash all over the floor.  
He glances around a few times, then remembers something. "By the way, Dimitri, our neighbor's cat isn't looking well these days. Can I show it to you?"  
"Nikita Zakharovna mentioned this, no problem."  
Dimitri affirms.  
"Oh!  
Isn't it?  
I forgot.  
If you agree."  
Alexsey stubbed out his cigarette.  
Dimitri has since become a regular at the club.  
Here what people have, so, what business can also contact, Alexsey is more active than Dimitri, so, he even touch a little Mafia forces, this let Dimitri admire his courage.

One summer Saturday night, Dimitri returned home from the club as usual.  
He was never late coming home, especially after the birth of his daughter, and today was no exception.  
When he came home, still light in the summer night, he called out a few times and found no one at home.  
Dimitri is a little surprised that his wife doesn't usually go out at this time. Is she going to a friend's house?  
He made sure that no one was home. After waiting for an hour, he prepared dinner. It was dark, but no one came back.  
He felt more and more strange, and a chill came over him.  
Just then, there was a knock on the door and Dimitri opened it -- it was Nikita.  
"Good evening, Dimitri Petrovic. Alexsey was a little drunk and forgot to give you this, your little toy."  
Nikita thrust a delicate little toy into Dimitri's hand. The toy was a small doll, not cheap to look at, and not made here.  
She smiled and looked in the room, as if looking for the owner of the toy. She looked around, but the room was empty. Nikita was a little surprised and asked: "Huh?  
You alone at home?"  
"I'll go out and look for them..."  
Dimitri stuffed the toy in his pocket, picked up the key and headed out the door.  
Nikita seemed to sense that something was wrong, so she hurried to go with them, but Dimitri stopped her, "You don't know where they often go. Would you please keep an eye on the home phone for me?"  
"All right."  
Nikita had to say yes.  
Dimitri turned and rushed out of the house.  
He searched all the haunts of his friends and family until nearly midnight, without finding anyone.  
The summer nights are cool, too, but Dimitri sweats with terror.  
At last, there was nothing he could do. He went home.  
Unexpectedly, as soon as he opened the door, he saw Nikita with a frightened face.  
When she saw Dimitri coming, she rushed forward and grabbed both his arms and shook them. "Demi...  
Dimitri · Petrovic!  
Not long ago I received a call, but I could not reach you. I had to wait for you!  
It's from the District Police, they, I don't know, but they found something, some sort of ID, some sort of something, you go look at it!"  
Nikita incoherently did not understand, Dimitri only heard "police station", the whole heart sank.  
He ran out again in a last hope, and Nikita, closing the door behind him, hurried after him.  
But when he arrived at the police station, his last hope was gone.  
The police showed Dimitri the identification they had found -- it belonged to his wife.  
Inside the two waterproof bags, both are Dimitri's family members, but neither is complete.  
Nikita stood at the door of an autopsy room, looking at the bloody booth on the table and the little one next to her who had turned into coke. She felt frightened, but more desperate for empathy -- what should Dimitri do?  
She looked at Dimitri, who was kneeling by the counter -- still holding the toy she had bought for her daughter.  
His body was tightly curled in there, unable to move.  
Nikita didn't know what to do. Alexsey was still at home drunk and asleep, and she didn't want to wake him up right now. That wouldn't help.  
Want to think to go, only ask a side of the police: "comrade, excuse me this is......"  
"The first is his wife, and the black one is his child."  
The policeman was not surprised, but he was a little frightened by the scene. "Who are you?" he whispered to Nikita.  
"Friends.  
I know who they are, and I want to know what happened, comrade?"  
"Anyway, it's a cult. They kidnapped people and took them to sacrifice.  
Poor mother and child."  
The policeman frowned at Dimitri, who also looked heavy and desperate on the ground.  
Nikita was at a loss -- what could she do?  
Is it useful to comfort him now?  
She had to beg the police several times to arrest the gang earlier.  
The policeman beside nodded gravely.  
"Dimitri Petrovic......"  
Nikita opened her mouth, but she didn't know what to say.  
Dimitri stood up and put the little doll in his hand next to the pile of coke. His hand slowly touched her. Nikita could not look at it any more.  
Dimitri stood still for a moment. Slowly, he lowered his head. Then he snapped off his glasses and squatted down to cry.  
Nikita looked at the broken Dimitri, sad to think -- this disaster not only robbed the world of a bunch of mother and daughter, but also robbed a promising doctor, a kind man.  
What will become of him?  
Nikita's heart went cold.


	7. Chapter 7

The girl's flying consciousness finally returned to the interrogation room. Graves seemed to be a little sleepy, smoking a cigarette lazily.  
But when he saw her awake, he looked much more comfortable. He snapped his fingers a few times to try to wake her up. "You're back, Malenkee?"  
"Don't call me that..."  
The girl blinked her eyes hard.  
"Good heavens.  
You've been there for nine hours and I'm dying. How dare you keep me waiting so long?"  
Graves said with a half-smile. "How was your trip?  
I want to hear them all.  
It's time for the truth to be revealed."  
The first thing the girl did when she was wide awake was look down -- Dimi's glasses were still out there, but Graves had put them back in the evidence bag.  
She exhaled -- Graves seemed serious about giving it to herself.  
As soon as she began to trust this man Graves, he said something that shocked her: "I am an agent of Astaroth.  
It was all arranged for you, you see how special you are."  
He was immersed in his wonderful plan, unable to get rid of themselves, enjoy a cigarette: "But I still a little worried, now that you have gone, how the world hasn't changed at all?"  
The girl wasn't surprised -- she didn't give it up, she just chatted with the mystics and the lunatics, how could there be any change in the world line?  
"Which one did you like best?  
I think I've always wanted to meet a Viking."  
Graves thought carefully for a moment, then raised his chin. "Now that you've finished your work, I think I can tell you more. That's what we agreed."  
The girl began to listen attentively.  
She felt distinctly different from before -- more assertive, stronger, at least now she knew that she could see the past if she wanted to.  
"I killed Matt, yes.  
But why didn't he rise again?  
Because a part of him killed him.  
Yes, my boss -- Astaroth is in him as well as in me.  
The boss was not very satisfied with him, and even thought he was beginning to be stupid.  
So he did go."  
Graves explained with a smile. "And besides, you've done your job, you've talked a lot, you've learned a lot, and maybe you'll walk the same way."  
Hearing this, the girl's mind "hummed" for a moment. After all, she had not yet produced the physical strength to escape the coercive measures, so her fear of being sentenced to death was still very deep.  
Graves, gather together very close, told the girl her future, when it comes to "go the same way, was proud, he suddenly stopped, stare big eyes, eyeball turn a few laps, back to the chair back, then frowned, violently blink of an eye, also touch the forehead and nose, a pair of very painful way.  
He put up with it for a long time and said to the girl, "Listen, you don't have to do this, all right?  
We don't have to be enemies, we can make things together..."  
The girl seemed to understand. She remembered -- the first time she saw Dimi, Dimi appeared to have a headache;  
Matt also said he "felt like I had a headache";  
When he was arraigned for the first time by Graves, he was interrupted several times by headaches.  
Is this their ability to defend themselves?  
She looked up at Graves. His face was so fierce that she started, and with this shock Graves's expression was even more painful.  
Under this, the girl is basically sure - this is one of their own self-defense ability, when feeling fear, the other will be uncomfortable.  
Graves was a little out of breath. "I could talk to him about the offer. We..."  
As he spoke, he seemed to choke, then rolled his eyes, fell back on the back of his chair and twitched, his whole body shaking into a mass of shadow.  
The girl looked at his reaction with some disgust and some curiosity.  
Suddenly he began to cough violently, and at last he lay down on the table with something sticking out of his throat, and blood trickling out of his mouth.  
Finally, I vomited out what looked like an octopus foot.  
The girl's eyes lit up when she saw that it was the same thing that had possessed Matt.  
Graves gasped, looked at the octopus foot, and then raised his eyes to the girl's face of horror and disgust, his eyes piteous and pure. "Thank you, thank you...  
I'm sorry...  
I'm sorry, I'm sorry...  
You've got to believe me, it wasn't me..."  
Like a child who has broken a vase, he looks around helplessly, forgetting to wipe the blood from his mouth.  
Of course she believed it wasn't him, but she still had to find out about Astaroth and her own ability. Besides, this Graves didn't do anything to break his finger, and killed Matt who broke his finger, so the girl's bad impression of him was basically cleared away.  
She looked at her left hand, which had only four fingers left, and sighed lightly.  
Graves caught his breath and reached out to remove the handcuffs. "What have I done...  
You are free."  
His eyes filled with guilt and fear, he looked to one side of his evidence box, pulled out Matt's gun, closed his eyes painfully, and pointed it at his head.  
'Hey, Philip!  
Philip! '  
The girl leaned forward quickly, caught in the chair, and struck the table in front of him.  
"Huh?"  
Graves raised his eyes blankly.  
"I don't want you to die, okay?"  
"Really?"  
Graves' eyes widened.  
"I know it wasn't you."  
"You know...  
?"  
"Graves said incredulously.  
He put the gun down slowly, wiped his mouth and said, "That hurts...  
Damn it...  
My baby's sick, and I'm sleeping at night, and this voice over and over again is telling me to open my mouth...  
Then my baby will be fine.  
I didn't think it would turn out like this..."  
He pulled a section of toilet paper to dry the blood.  
He looked at the blood stains that could not be dried with paper. "I killed someone...  
Kill people...  
My hand is stained with blood...  
Really, it wasn't me..."  
"I know."  
"Thank you.  
Thank you for setting me free...  
That's a monster!  
Damn it...  
Monster!!"  
He pulled another section of toilet paper and wiped his hands again and again, but the red mark was always there.  
Frustrated, aggrieved and angry, Graves threw the crumpled toilet paper aside.  
He looks at her, squints, and shakes his head. "God, he really wants you...  
He's afraid of you...  
He was afraid you'd kill him, so he wanted to do it first...  
Marlene...  
I'm sorry.  
But trust me, really.  
Listen, that sounds kind of silly, can I put the gloves back on?"  
Graves asked, holding up his bloody hands.  
"Of course."  
Seeing Graves' poor appearance, the girl agreed at once.  
Graves thanked him and quickly grabbed the gloves and put them on.  
He then opened the evidence bag in front of his Dimi glasses, handed them to the girl, and tossed the bag.  
The girl had no place to put anything on her, so she put her glasses on her head.  
"You have the ability to upset the other person through negative emotions, mainly anger and fear.  
Light headaches, dizziness, severe nosebleeds, fainting, serious coma or even death.  
Your nurse, I'm afraid, fell into a coma on account of that, and what happened I don't know."  
Graves tried to explain what he knew, and he pointed again at the octopus foot. "That's what's taking over my head...  
I would be me, not me...  
Oh, my God. Oh, my God. I'm so sorry...  
I'm sorry..."  
Graves was as obedient as a lamb.  
"Do you know anything else?"  
'pursued the girl.  
Graves sat in a different position and thought. "You have to kill the monster...  
I think so.  
You've talked to so many historical figures, you should have great powers.  
Sorry, I'm a little nervous.  
But Ataroth is the devil, the devil who caused everything.  
No matter how small you think you are, you are stronger than him!  
Much more powerful!  
If it had been you, you would have killed him."  
"Graves said emphatically.  
Graves glances at the box, pulls out Dimi's gun, and hands it to the girl.  
She took the gun and looked at the octopus foot -- she was afraid she knew where she was going to meet Astaroth.  
The smell of the octopus's feet was a bit disgusting, but in order to kill the culprit, the girl had to endure it.  
She asks Graves to wait for her in the interrogation room, and he agrees. Before she leaves, she asks Graves to return her clothes -- this is not just a journey of consciousness.  
The base is their clothes are washed and dried, wear very comfortable.  
She adjusted her Dimi jacket, which still didn't fit well, and stowed the gun on her waist.  
Then came a thick fog.  
A dark figure, like a plague doctor with horns, dark lenses that were unfathomable, and Ataroth, a pair of goggles that seemed to have been Matt's, was at the top of the picture.  
"At last we meet.  
You've been taking risks, little one. Will you come and trade with me now?"  
"You want my heart.  
What can you give me?"  
The girl was not afraid now.  
"Don't worry.  
Let me ask you a few questions first.  
Do you remember this?"  
A plume of black air gathered around Astaroth, taking the form of the mask Matt was wearing -- the pantyhose -- with a rabbit's mouth drawn by Matt. "Little man, why do you leave your fate in the hands of these men?"  
"Astaroth tutted.  
He added: "The kind of guy who carries a pistol?"  
Matt's mask suddenly changed to the shape of a small pistol, and the silver pistol the girl was carrying floated out to the edge of Astaroth's horn.  
"A gun from Matt, a gun from Dimitri...  
It should come as no surprise to you that the two men you trusted were murderers.  
They might sound familiar."  
Astaroth slowly circled the girl and imitated, "Malenkee, listen to me. I swear on my life that I will protect you."  
The girl wanted to punch Ataroth into hell, but now she had to put up with it -- she wanted Ataroth to let down his guard and tell the truth about herself.  
Astaroth then changed her voice: "I like you very much, baby, you are so special!"  
Astaroth was delighted. After impersonating both of them, he shook his head: "Well, and that stupid Graves...  
These men, Malenkee, all have their own motives, and they all want you...  
The only thing is, they don't know your real name!  
Your name, Astarte...  
My family, my sister, my brother, Astarte.  
Maybe you don't believe me, but I'm not lying.  
You are me, I am you."  
The girl did not really identify with this identity, but she actually felt a trace of excitement -- this means that they have the same ability as the demon in front of them.  
She can choose to make a change or maintain the status quo.  
She continued to listen to Astaroth's triumphant story.  
"So listen to me now -- give me your heart, for I will always find a way to kill you.  
At least one of those stupid men wouldn't have made such a stupid mistake if you had chosen to give me your heart."  
The girl listened to a little confused - if I can find a way to kill me, why do I have to give up my heart?  
What was Astaroth thinking?  
Or is he just not telling the truth?  
But she decided to play it by ear for a while.  
"Dimitri you love, Matt you love -- oh, Matt, what an interesting creature."  
Astaroth lifted the goggles over his head and flicked the girl's eyes again. "Dimitri would have been a good man for me, but he's too stupid to see for himself.  
That's why he lost his family and didn't have much on his mind.  
The cult, made him burn inside, made him do what he couldn't do before, to kill, to save..."  
Astaroth pointed easily to the girl.  
"Do you want my heart or not?"  
The girl interrupted him in disgust.  
"All right, all right."  
Astaroth laughs, his laughter echoing deep in the fog. "So who do you choose?  
Dimitri or Matt?  
Matt or Dimitri?"  
"I'll save them all."  
'said the girl coldly.  
"Ha ha ha..."  
Astaroth shook his head. "This decision is no decision."  
When she saw Astaroth, she decided to forgive Matt for what he had done to her fingers -- the demon in front of her was the real source of darkness.  
Without him, Matt was nothing more than a poor but good miner.  
She decided not to wait any longer.  
She looked down at her chest, looked around at the fog, reached out her hand, closed her eyes, and poked in -- a real stab of pain.  
She's Astarte, and she can change at will. It's easy to take a heart, even if it's her own.  
The girl's hand caught the heart and she pulled it out.  
It's strange. It doesn't hurt as much as when you cut your finger.  
"Here you are."  
The girl gave her heart out, panting.  
Astaroth smiled and took the heart and looked at it for a long time. Then she laughed and said, "You don't know what you have given me. You don't know what strength you have given up, Astarte!"  
He laughed. "You don't understand!  
You're me, I'm you, so you're the only one I'm afraid of...  
You gave me your power, and now I am truly powerful!"  
He swallowed the heart proudly and greedily.  
The girl still stared coldly at Astaroth.  
When Astaroth had finished his enjoyment of the heart, he suddenly choked, as if he were choking, and the girl felt that his strength was waning rapidly.  
"What, what is this, what have you done...  
My dear, what have you done?  
You lied to me!  
It's not your heart...  
Matt!"  
Astaroth is flustered, and the girl, feeling her own strength counterbalance his, quickly grabs Dimi's pistol, points it at Astaroth, and pulls the trigger.  
Ataroth screamed and disappeared into the fog.  
A voice came from a distance: "You may have broken my form, but my soul lives on forever.  
Astarte...  
Astarte......"  
Who cares?  
The girl was relieved.  
She loaded her gun and walked out of the fog.  
Graves still sat with his gloves on, waiting impatiently -- he didn't even dare to wash his hands when she made him wait.  
See opposite of the person came back, he hurriedly asked: "how."  
"It's worked out."  
The girl waved her gun and said softly.  
Graves smiled and nodded.  
The girl added, "By the way, I cured your child."  
She's not lying.  
She woke up to her own strength, and before coming out of the fog, she went to change something, to cure the Graves child, to save Matt and the caregiver.  
As for Dimi, she has other plans.  
"Thank you..."  
Graves looked as if he was about to cry.  
"Don't be so quick to thank me, I still have something to do with you, even if you make it up to me."  
The girl put away her gun.  
She decided to tell a little lie.


	8. Chapter 8

The sun is shining on a New York winter street. In the inpatient department of a hospital, Dimi's eyes slowly open -- the sun is bright and the shutters are open.  
He sat up. There was something wrong with the right side of his neck, so he reached out and felt it -- there seemed to be a scar, but it didn't hurt, and it seemed to heal.  
His hospital gown reminded him that he was in the hospital, and his last memory was of the black muffle who broke into the house and shot him. He seemed to have survived, but where was Malenkee?  
Dimi got out of bed and was about to leave when the nurse stopped him. "Just a minute, Sir, where are you going?"  
Dimi was so full of questions that he didn't know where to start. The nurse saw him looking like this and pushed him back to bed. "Please take your time, Miss Klettverschluss is carrying you out of the hospital for just a few minutes.  
Here are your clothes. Please put them on first."  
Klettverschluss miss?  
The real Miss Klettverschluss had been burned to death more than twenty years earlier.  
Dimi, with some hesitation, took the paper bag from the nurse. Inside was a plain-looking outfit, not the original, but still black -- a black sweater and pants, and a navy blue windbreaker.  
He went to the window and looked out. The people in the street were all in heavy clothes. It seemed to be winter already.  
Confused, Dimi listened to the nurse and changed her clothes.  
At the bottom of the paper bag was an old flip phone that he instantly recognized as his own.  
He turned on his phone and it said it was November 2012 -- oh my God, a year has passed?  
He was in a hurry to find Malenkee when a pattering of feet from outside rushed in and a girl clutched Dimi's neck, laughing.  
"Malenkee...  
?"  
When she finally let go, Dimi saw her face clearly.  
Yes, she is.  
His Malenkee was no longer the startled bird it had been a year before.  
She was wearing a white turtleneck sweater, light-colored jeans, high-top sneakers, and her hair hanging down like a normal college student, except for the fact that she was wearing a jacket that was several sizes too large and at odds with her personality.  
But most of all, her smile is confident and reassuring.  
Dimi thought that a lot of things had happened this year that he couldn't have imagined.  
Malenkee's hands were behind her and her excited eyes were wide. "Dimi!  
You're all right at last!  
I'll explain everything later, okay?  
Now, I've got something for you!"  
Her hand reached behind her back and put the glasses on him. "So...  
Just fine."  
Malenkee patted Dimi's arm. "Come on, let's go back."  
Dimi followed the Malenkee out the door with his mind still full of confusion. After thinking for a long time, he could only start with the nearest one and ask, "That, Miss Klettverschluss, is that you?"  
"It's me. Who else is it?"  
Malenkee replied with a smile.  
"Oh."  
Dimi was a little frustrated.  
He had cherished a strange hope that the original Miss Klettverschluss was not, in fact, dead.  
That hope, it now seems, has been dashed.  
Out of the inpatient department, Malenkee and Dimi walk toward the hospital door. She points to a busy street outside. "Look, my apartment is right over there, and it's not near, but I can walk there.  
I want to buy something, so I won't take a taxi.  
Well, I won't return these two, I like them, and want to keep them."  
Malenkee tugged at his jacket and patted the pistol behind him.  
"Wait, Malenkee, explain the situation to me first, will you?"  
Dimi waved his hand -- this time it was Malenkee's turn to say something he couldn't understand.  
Malenkee laughed -- telling Dimi about her ability, one, to cause negative emotions, mainly anger and fear, to cause the person causing them to react in varying degrees.  
Second, when I focus, I can see everything that happened in the past and in the present.  
She also shared her experience with Dimi.  
Of course, she lied.  
The fact that she "has been able to alter time and space," she does not say.  
She had defeated Ataroth for something she did not say.  
She took advantage of her ability to put Dimi in the inpatient ward of a New York hospital when he was supposed to be lying in the morgue in Quantico, not to mention it.  
Malenkee bought two doughnuts and two cups of coffee and gave them to Dimi. "So, Graves felt guilty and thanked me for saving him -- though I didn't know how -- so I asked him for a small favor," she said.  
"What is it?"  
Dimi was really hungry.  
"Got him to put me in the witness protection program."  
Dimi reflected on it -- yes, witness protection programs offer new identities, new homes, and even huge subsidies, but Malenkee is in no way a member of a witness protection program.  
He shook his head. "But the witness protection program requires me not to have any connection to the past, let alone put you in a busy place like New York."  
"So, it's a favor."  
Malenkee winked shrewdly. "And I asked him to inquire about St. Petersburg. The gang you were in has been removed, so you are safe too!"  
She went on to lie that she had, in fact, "erased" the existence of the gang.  
But Dimi, of course, doesn't know that, so he nods his head thoughtfully.  
"By the way, who was that dynasty you spoke of?"  
"Asked Malenkee, affectedly.  
"My friends in Germany."  
Dimi answer.  
"Oh, all right.  
Well, you don't have to contact them.  
Graves told me you used to be a vet.  
Settle down and maybe you'll start a little clinic later."  
Malenkee giggled.  
Malenkee had Dimi wait at the door of a Lido supermarket while she trotted into it. A few minutes later, Malenkee trotted out again, carrying a large box with a set of white porcelain coffee POTS painted on it.  
Looking at Malenkee's exuberant cheerfulness, Dimi smiled. "Be careful. Don't fall."  
"Do you mean me or it?"  
Malenkee scratched his face.  
"Do you think I'd rather drop you, or it?  
Satisfied, Malenkee picks up the big box and leads Dimi to the apartment.  
The apartment is on a high floor, decorated very simple, black, white and gray color scheme.  
The living room has a balcony with floor-to-ceiling Windows that opens onto the street and is lit by an open-plan dining room and kitchen with a bedroom, all spruce up.  
Malenkee puts the coffee-pot package on the dining table and grabs a knife to unwrap it.  
Dimi measured the length of the couch before sitting down to rest.  
He watched as Malenkee filled out the coffee-pot, cleaned it, placed it on a brown wooden tray, then sat down on the couch next to him and recharged the laptop on the coffee table.  
"Are you really safe now, Malenkee?  
Dimi asked, still uneasy.  
"Yes!  
Anyone who makes me afraid or angry will be killed too."  
Malenkee sat cross-legged on the sofa.  
"I mean, here."  
Dimi pointed between her eyebrows.  
"These..."  
Malenkee looked up and thought, "I am much stronger than I was before. So, I will be much better.  
Besides, you don't have to worry. It's no use worrying about it.  
You won't help me."  
Malenkee laughed.  
Dimi smiled.  
He was like a fierce tiger about to retire, but he did not know how much longer he could protect Malenkee.  
Now he was happy to see Malenkee doing so well.  
In the evening, Dimi came home from the outside.  
Malenkee insisted that he go out for a walk. It didn't matter if he was at home alone. He needed some fresh air.  
Dimi took a little longer -- the surroundings were different from Germany and Russia.  
Especially in a city like New York that never sleeps, at night, the style changes.  
The lights are off in the apartment, only the glow of the laptop flickers, and Malenkee is asleep on the couch, legs tucked together under her jacket, the laptop in front of her with a TV show on it.  
There was a half-eaten supper on the table beside it.  
Dimi, a little guiltily, gently pulled back his dining chair and tried to eat his cold dinner as quietly as possible.  
I think there's a Victorian TV show on the computer.  
"Look at our swallow, back at last!  
Heartless girl, I gave you a week's holiday, and you went away for three months, and I thought you would never come back! '  
"As quickly as I could, Sir."  
"Come on, people will be excited to see you.  
Adele is going to delightly shout 'Bienvenue'!"  
'I'm back where you are, Sir.  
Wherever you are is my home, is my true home."


	9. Chapter 9

In the middle of the night, although the streets are still busy, but high-rise apartments are not affected.  
In the bedroom of the apartment, Malenkee sleeps peacefully.  
Sleeping on the couch outside Dimi.  
Malenkee offered to buy him a fold-out bed, but he declined -- a sofa would be nice.  
Malenkee's head began to shake, probably from a bad dream, and then he groaned and frowned, but could not wake up.  
Then sweat broke out on her forehead.  
Finally, with a jerk, she woke up.  
Malenkee huddled under the covers, gasping hard, staring at the potted plants in the corner.  
Suddenly, a streak of blood ran down her face -- she had a nosebleed.  
Malenkee sat up, bleeding from his nose to the covers, and his head began to ache violently.  
It's a nightmare effect.  
She was afraid of her own thoughts, and of course it was herself who had a headache.  
Malenkee, struggling with a headache to figure this out, was bleeding profusely.  
She stood up, her head ready to burst, almost fainting.  
Malenkee tugged at her robe, stumbled outside, slapped the switch on the bathroom, went in, locked the door, turned on the tap, and began to wash her face.  
The pool was red, and Malenkee's fear was not yet gone, so the blood did not stop, but the headache grew worse.  
Her eyes darkened a few times, and she lost her footing and fell to the ground.  
She stood up slowly, holding on to the toilet seat, sat on it, holding her head, letting the blood trickle to the floor -- and, most important, calming her feelings.  
"Malenkee!  
Malenkee!  
Are you all right?"  
Outside, Dimi clearly woke up. He kept banging on the door.  
"I'm fine," Malenkee answered weakly, recovering his breath.  
When she heard Dimi's voice, she calmed down a bit, the nosebleeds stopped, and she still had a slight headache.  
"Just, wait, come in a minute..."  
Malenkee took the mop and wiped the floor clean. Then she washed her face again, opened the door and sat down on the toilet seat.  
Dimi saw the drops of blood on Malenkee's robe as she entered, remembered what she had said about her abilities, and wondered a little about why she had become this way.  
So he said, "Malenkee, tell me, what danger have you been in?"  
"No.  
I'm having nightmares."  
Malenkee shook his head.  
Dimi was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when she saw something that Malenkee hadn't noticed before, or that Malenkee had intentionally obscured -- her left hand, which was missing a finger.  
He looked at the ugly section and asked, with a slight tremor, "What's going on here?"  
"Oh, nothing..."  
Malenkee replied lightly, "That's the Matt, who did it in the first place.  
Don't be angry, he's dead..."  
Well, she wasn't lying about that.  
Matt was a man over a hundred years ago. Even if she had changed his life, he would have died of natural causes by now.  
She hid her hands behind her back -- she didn't want to use too much power in front of Dimi, except, of course, to lie to keep him.  
Dimi sighed heavily, looked at Malenkee, who was still bloodied, and asked, "What did you dream about?  
Whatever it is, don't be afraid. It's all false. I'm here, okay?"  
"I dreamed about the day you were shot."  
"Said Malenkee, a little aggrieved.  
She shook her head as if trying to get the day out of her mind, her long hair a mess.  
Dimi crouched down to help Malenkee. "Don't be afraid. I'm back, aren't I?  
Still healthy, still fine."  
"You don't want to get involved with the gang anymore."  
Malenkee was not lying, she begged with all her heart.  
"All right, I promise."  
Dimi nodded.  
Malenkee then wiped away her tears, stood up, said goodnight to Dimi, and went back to change for bed.  
But the scene was still a nightmare to her, and she could not think of it without palpitations.  
Early the next morning, Dimi was awakened by the sound of eggs being fried. He sat up and looked forward. He saw Malenkee humming and frying eggs like no one else at the stove, with two nearly ready breakfasts next to him.  
Dimi looked at his watch -- almost eight.  
He stood up, rubbed his eyes, and went to wash himself. Then he went to the hearth. Under Malenkee's eyes there was red, probably from crying, or from not sleeping well, or whatever, from the nightmare of the night.  
Dimi didn't ask much. He knew it wouldn't help and that spending time with Malenkee was what she wanted.  
"Are you awake?  
I woke up too early. Alas, I didn't sleep well.  
You know that."  
Malenkee said something briefly, setting the coffee tray on the table and moving his hands all the way. "Never mind that.  
To have a dinner.  
Aye?  
Aren't you short-sighted?  
No glasses?"  
"I didn't get to put it on."  
Dimi went to the coffee table, found the glasses, and put them back on.  
Malenkee sat at the kitchen table and giggled. "You look like you just graduated without your glasses."  
"Just finish...  
Oh yes, you can see into the past."  
Dimi looked down and smiled. "What did I look like then?  
I can't remember my own."  
Malenkee squinted his eyes, raised his head and tossed it. "Dandy, pretty, handsome, handsome, dashing..."  
'Come, miss!  
Dimi laughed. "Are you talking about Tom Cruise or Daniel Craig?"  
'You're better looking than either of them!  
Malenkee stared at him sharply, drawing conclusions with great care.  
Perhaps because of the mention of Daniel Craig, after breakfast Malenkee said, "Would you like to go to the movies?  
I want to go to the movies."  
"Yeah.  
What movie?"  
"Skyfall.  
It just came out."  
"Yes, I can."  
Dimi replied curtly.  
"Great!  
Malenkee clapped his hands and laughed.  
She washed the dishes and went to change.  
After putting on his coat, Dimi felt something was missing from him. He touched his pants pocket and remembered -- where's the family photo?  
His heart twitched, he thought, frowning. He remembered that he had just seen the family picture the day he was shot. Where was it now?  
"Malenkee!  
Do you know where my old clothes are?"  
"He said to Malenkee as he came out of the back room.  
Malenkee was stunned and replied, "You...  
You're looking for that picture, right?  
I don't know...  
It was probably thrown away with the clothes by the hospital people...  
When I performed the operation on you, the clothes needed to be cut open in many places. After cutting, the clothes would be useless...  
But don't be angry, I'll get it for you at once..."  
In fact, the suit was probably still sitting in a evidence room somewhere in Quantico, and Malenkee had "modified" the world without it. He had "transferred" his people from the freezer to the hospital, where he had modified the relevant records and memories.  
Nine times out of ten, that picture was in Quantico.  
Fearing that Dimi would be angry with her for losing the photos, Malenkee rushed out to do whatever it took to see the movie, looking for a quiet place to "go back" to Quantico and check on the situation.  
Dimi's head suddenly ached, and he shielded Malenkee and waved his hand. "Don't be afraid. In that case, let me see for myself.  
"Well..."  
Malenkee's innocent eyes blinked, and Dimi's headache subsided. "So, are you still watching the movie?"  
'asked Malenkee carefully.  
"If you like it, go."  
Dimi smiled.  
Malenkee was happy again.

Leaving the movie theater, it began to snow, and while Dimi was still wondering how the movie set didn't match the reality, Malenkee rushed to the street and reached out to catch the snow.  
In a trance, he seemed to see himself and his wife playing in the snow on a winter night in Alexandria Place.  
But he knew there was no going back.  
He blinked hard, and the woman in front of him changed back into Malenkee.  
'Does it snow much in Tver?  
Malenkee asked as he walked back.  
"Yes, it's always cold in winter.  
So is St. Petersburg."  
Dimi nodded.  
"Well, I don't think I've ever had snow before.  
But the snow is not heavy enough today."  
Malenkee was not lying. She had been in the care of the institution since she was very young and had not had much chance to play in the snow. "Dimi, when it snows in New York, why don't we play in the snow together?"  
"Good."  
Dimi smiled.  
Malenkee received a promise and ran forward a few steps, grinning.  
Suddenly, she noticed something like, pointing to the side of the bush: "out!"  
Dimi gets nervous. Subconsciously, he reaches for the gun, then remembers that the gun is on Malenkee, so he lunges in front of Malenkee.  
Then, to his surprise, out of the trees came not a man, but a small, pale, wild cat.  
Malenkee laughs and takes Dimi's arm. "My sweet Dimi, what are you nervous about?  
Would I shout like that if I thought I was bad?"  
Dimi touched his elbow in a bit of embarrassment, but happily watched as Malenkee picked up the little wild cat mewing at her.  
Malenkee stroked the kitten's head and said excitedly, "What if we take it home?"  
"You're keeping him?  
Having a cat is a hassle."  
Dimi crossed his hands.  
"I can take care of it!"  
Malenkee replied with a smile.  
Dimi saw that there was no reason to object, and because he also loved cats, he smiled and agreed.  
The kitten was very well behaved, but she was a little cold all the way.  
Malenkee hurried home and put the kitten on the floor. The kitten ran to the corner of the sofa and curled up.  
Malenkee went to change her clothes and came out to find Dimi reaching for the kitten and holding it in her lap.  
Just as Malenkee thought he was going to play with the cat, within three seconds Dimi was picking up the cat's ears and teeth, examining the underside of its tail and the corners of its eyes, and muttering to himself, "Hmm, 2-year-old male cat, looks pretty healthy, I'll take you to get vaccinated if I have time..."  
"Ha ha ha," Malenkee laughed when he saw Dimi. "Dimi, you're a deep-rooted occupational disease!"  
That's right. The occupational disease was twenty years old anyway. Dimi let go of the kitten and smiled.  
"Shall we give him a bath?  
"Don't.  
When the cat gets home, don't disturb him first. Prepare a cat nest, a place to grind PAWS and a litter box for him. It's best to isolate him and let him adapt to the environment, otherwise he will have a stress response, which will seriously endanger his life.  
In a few days, when he's acclimated, we'll bathe him and vaccinate him."  
Dimi went on and on, and Malenkee listened, "You're so good..."  
"Nothing."  
Dimi simply replied with a smile.  
This is the most basic knowledge, but it was the professional knowledge that had to be mastered in those days. He also felt that it was hard for him to "remember what I had for breakfast" and remember things that I had not used for many years.  
He looked at the cowered kitten and smiled back at Malenkee. "Now there is only one thing to do."  
"What is it?  
"Asked Malenkee excitedly.  
"Names!  
Do you have to call him 'pussy'?  
It's not Breakfast at Tiffany's."  
Dimi gave a rare "giggle".  
Malenkee sat on the small couch, held his chin in his hands and thought for a long time. Finally, he hammered his forehead. Turning to Dimi, he said, "I can't think of a good name!  
Why don't you give him one?  
A Russian name!"  
"Well..."  
Dimi thought about it. "How about Ilya?"  
"Ilya!  
Ilya!"  
Malenkee was pleased with the name and barked at the kitten.  
But the kitten doesn't seem to be interested yet.  
At that moment, the bell rang at the door. "Is anyone home?  
Package!"  
Dimi heard this and tried to open the door, when Malenkee jumped up from the couch to stop him and made a hush gesture with an excited expectant look on his face.  
The Courier rang the doorbell several more times and shouted, "Miss. Kle...uh...Klettverschluss?"  
Malenkee smirks, and Dimi laughs too -- a mouthful, indeed, that the average person wouldn't immediately pronounce at first glance.  
The Courier's voice rose three points again and he rang the doorbell. "Miss Tatiana Klettverschluss??"  
Malenkee then shouted back, "Sorry, I'm coming!"  
She opened the door for the Courier, apologized a few times and took the package back.  
It was a large easel she had bought, pens and acrylic paint, and a large stack of picture frames stretched out with cloth.  
She sets up the easel by the French window, picks up the pens, paints and canvas, throws the packaging in the trash, washes her hands, and returns to the living room, smiling to Dimi and saying, "Later, I can paint us and Ilya!"  
Dimi leaned his hand on the back of the chair and didn't hear anything.  
His mind was full of the past, which he did not want to forget, nor could he forget, but which only made him more miserable.  
Tatiana is the name shared by his wife and daughter.


	10. Chapter 10

Alexsey hadn't seen Dimitri in days, and neither had Nikita, whose neighbor's kitten had to be taken to another doctor. The owners at work were asking, "Is Dr. Klettverschluss on leave?" Nikita was left with a vague "Yes."  
"Dynasty" without Dimitri, it is no different, but Alexsey and Nikita often knock on their door, or call him, but no one answered.  
On that frenetic day, the Berlin Wall came down.  
Alexsey and Nikita stood below the apartment, stunned and dazed as the helicopter flew away with the dismantled Lenin statue -- only the Guru's eyes still watching them, his hands still stretched out into the distance.  
That evening he came to the Dynasty.  
Some of the people in Dynasty had become a little silent like him, others still drank and chatted as usual.  
At the door, a man flashed in. It was Dimitri.  
Alexsey's eyes lit up and she stepped forward. She was about to say something when Dimitri reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, unquestionably leading him into the corner.  
"Alexsey," he said, his eyes sinking in and a little red. "I need to ask you to buy something.  
I know no one but you who has access."  
Stunned by Dimitri's expression, Alexsey and Dimitri looked at each other for a long time before stammering, "You're not going to buy that, are you?"  
He made a gesture to pull the trigger.  
"Can you get it?"  
Dimitri's deep voice sounded like a stone thrown into a dark abyss.  
Alexsey looked to her side, trying not to be noticed but stamping her feet against the excited voice, "Dimitri!  
What risk are you taking?  
I know you want revenge, but this is a police business, and it's too dangerous! '  
"Will it or won't it?  
Alexsey's heart cooled as she looked into Dimitri's increasingly cold eyes. "Okay, Dimitri," she said, "go home and wait for me in a few days."  
A few days later, there was a knock on Dimitri's door.  
He opened a crack in the door. Outside stood Alexsey and Nikita, looking grave.  
Dimitri opens the door a little wider. Alexsey sighs, pulls a silver gun from her bag, and hands it out. "Here's a gun."  
Then he pulled out a paper bag. "Three cartridges, three magazines."  
Dimitri took it, placed it on a nearby table, and whispered, "Thank you."  
"Dimitri."  
Alexsey suddenly reached out a hand, patted Dimitri on the shoulder, solemnly said: "I know, our comfort is useless.  
But all I can say is, if you're determined to do it, go for it!  
To rid the world of this evil.  
Some of Dynasty's friends see that, and they're all rooting for you.  
These are complicated times, and they don't want to advertise such things, so this might be an opportunity for you...  
Anyway, whatever you decide to do, Nikita and I will always support you!  
All right?  
If anything ever happens to you, friends of Dynasty, and both of us, come back and find us..."  
Alexsey became more and more upset as she finally broke down, holding Dimitri in her arms and wiping her eyes.  
Nikita, pretending to be happy, tore Alexsey off Dimitri, saying, "Alyosha!  
Don't be embarrassed...  
Dimitri will be fine."  
She looked at Dimitri, eyes red, said a hasty "goodbye," and pulled Alexsey away.  
Dimitri saw off the Morozov couple, returned to the house, opened the cartridges and loaded them, bullet by bullet, into the silver gun.  
It's a really nice gun. Too bad it's used to kill those cults, those bastards, those fucking brutes...  
He hid a gun and rushed to the cult base from all sides to find out - this is not difficult, after all, they also want to develop "believers".  
It was a ramshackle concrete building in a wooded suburb on the Berlin border, surrounded by a fenced painting of the Jupiter they worshipped.  
The weather is not good. It's still cloudy.  
There was a strange totem standing in the courtyard, and Dimitri didn't want to know what it was.  
Outside the enclosure stood two men with painted faces. He stepped up and asked, "Is this' Jupiter honors order '?"  
"Who are you?  
"Is this' Jupiter honors order '?"  
The two men looked at each other and then nodded.  
Dimitri lets out a sigh of relief, then quickly and calmly pulls out his gun and kills both men with a boom, boom, boom.  
His eyes brimmed with tears as he looked at the blood shed by the two cults.  
Hearing the noise, the cults inside rushed towards Dimitri, screaming wildly.  
He dodged one of the fists, fired two shots at two men with knives, and knocked down two more.  
"Three, four."  
He counted.  
The bigger the better, because Dr. Klettverschluss decided today to go on a killing spree.  
There were three men who were trying to escape, and Dimitri opened their heads, too.  
"Five, six, seven."  
He ran inside the building, found a stair behind which he hid, put on a new magazine, and as soon as he had done so, the thug following him punched him in the face. Dimitri's glasses were shattered, and he emptied the magazine into the crowd, falling five times.  
"Twelve."  
Both magazines were empty. Dimitri replaced the last full one -- it would take time to reload -- but he didn't mind. Instead, he ran upstairs, stood on the stairs and fired four more shots at the mob, all of them crowded together so that all four shots hit.  
"Sixteen."  
Good thing the cult thugs don't have guns.  
They rushed at Dimitri with knives, Shouting "Jupiter" and "Sacrifice."  
Dimitri was not able to dodge a long knife cut over his right eye. Fortunately, he did not hurt his eye.  
Dimitri grew more furious and fired three shots in the direction of the man with the knife, hitting him twice.  
"Eighteen."  
His magazine was empty.  
And the rioters are still mad to charge forward like jihadis, regardless of their lives.  
Dimitri raced upstairs and hid in a corner with two magazines loaded with fourteen rounds.  
It was a collapsed half wall, he hid behind, do not know when the body more than a lot of injuries, now calm down to feel pain.  
The blood was trickling through.  
The cult mob rushed upstairs Shouting about Jupiter and some kind of curse, and Dimitri resolutely shot at them, bringing down four of them before they could react.  
"Twenty-two."  
Just before the cult fanatics noticed him, Dimitri ran to the top floor, where a large piece of the floor had leaked. He ran along the edge to the very inside and picked up a wooden stick from the ground.  
Soon, the cults followed.  
The space was narrow because of a hole in the middle, and Dimitri took several cuts.  
With a wave of his long stick he swallowed the pain and swept most of the cults down through the great hole in the floor, leaving only three on top.  
He calmly fired three shots.  
"Twenty-five."  
Then he came to the great hole, and the rest of the cults fell down and crawled on the ground.  
With angry, desperate eyes, he began his execution.  
"Twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two."  
The whole building was quiet.  
Dimitri, gun in hand, his mind blank, soaked in both enemy's and his own blood, stepped downstairs, sat down against the wall, outside the first floor.  
If there were three hundred and twenty, he could kill them if he could.  
He wants them to make amends for his two Tatiana.  
A piece of pink cloth hung from the fence, swaying in the wind.  
That's part of little Tanya's swaddling.  
He slowly raised the gun, looked at it for a long time, thinking, perhaps this thing is more suitable for him.  
His life has no meaning. Why not be an instrument of cruelty, a servant without feelings?  
A few months later, the Morozov family received a postcard from St. Petersburg, signed with a simple D.  
Alexsey took the postcard and looked at it for a long time.  
Nikita was reading Shakespeare. Seeing the Winter Palace on the back of the postcard, she was also stunned.  
The book was turning to the section on the de-coronation of Richard II. It read:  
"My eyes are full of tears and I cannot see."


	11. Chapter 11

If you want to make a replacement, then make a replacement from the beginning to the end.  
That's what Malenkee thought.  
So when she asked Graves to get her new passport, she said "Tatiana Klettverschluss" without thinking.  
In fact, while both of their names are Tatiana, Dimi and Big Tatiana refer to their daughter by the nickname "Tanya."  
But she said "Tatiana."  
She doesn't want to be a replacement for Tanya, even though she knows that Dimi sees her that way.  
But she stubbornly, stubbornly insisted on calling herself Tatiana.  
She also knows that Dimi can't say her name.  
Dimi continued to be nice to Malenkee for the rest of the day, but she could clearly see that her new name was making Dimi a little upset.  
Not necessarily angry, perhaps sad, but he was certainly unhappy.  
She didn't mean it that way.  
She just wanted to be a qualified replacement.  
Even with Astarte's powers, she can't read the mind. Instead, her ability to defend herself with "anger or fear is a headache" sometimes allows others to read her mind.  
She went quietly to work on drafts of the first painting -- Dimi, herself, and Ilya.  
The kitten has been getting used to the house for a few days and Malenkee has taken him to a bath and vaccinations.  
After a few days of good food, Ilya quickly began to feel healthy.  
And Dimi went through the day with the same attitude about himself. Good, very good, flawlessly good, fake.  
Malenkee just likes to draw. In fact, she is not very good at it.  
After an afternoon of work, a messy, barely shapely painting was born.  
Malenkee looked at his masterpiece and thought it was a little Picasso. Then he thought -- that was insulting Picasso!  
Laughing, she picked up Ilya and rubbed her face against his fur.  
The newly washed kitten was soft and smooth, which made Malenkee very happy.  
Dimi returns from the outside and sees Malenkee sucking a cat with his eyes closed and his face intoxicatedly next to the painting that is still wet. He looks at the wall, which has already been hammered three nails by Malenkee, presumably to hang the painting.  
Three is perfect, four is more.  
He went over to the easel, glanced at the miserable painting, and chuckled.  
"You're back?  
Did you find anything you liked in the library?"  
Malenkee asked with a smile, still touching Ilya.  
"Seeing so many different things, I think I'll go there often."  
Dimi replied, "That's you?  
Is that what you look like?"  
Malenkee stared and said, "What do you know!  
This is me imitating The Maiden of Avignon!"  
Dimi thought back to "The Avignon Girl," then looked at what was in front of him and said with a suppressed smile, "Got it. New York Malenkee!"  
'You laugh at me!  
Malenkee kept stooped. "Ilya!  
Catch him!"  
Then he loosened the Ilya.  
Ilya puts her front paw on Dimi's leg and scratches the sound on his pants.  
Laughing, Dimi picked Ilya up and pointed to the painting. "What do you call this?" he asked.  
Malenkee tilted his head and thought. "Dimi, Ilya and..."  
She stopped -- what was her name?  
Dimi's smile narrowed. "...  
Tanya?"  
"...  
Tatiana.  
Malenkee, who was still struggling, took it to heart when she heard Dimi's words. With a wave of her brush, she wrote 'Dimi, Ilya and Tatiana,' and signed it Tatiana K.  
Dimi nodded and said nothing.  
In the coffee pot was Malenkee's freshly brewed coffee.  
Dimi feels as if she likes to keep the pot filled with fresh coffee, preferably at least half full all the time.  
Malenkee stepped on the chair and hung the picture on the first nail. Then he jumped down and ran to the kitchen to make dinner.  
As she walked past Dimi, his head gave a sharp pain, but it soon went away.  
"Are you afraid?  
Dimi followed out of the kitchen.  
"No."  
Malenkee replied quickly, as if the word burned his tongue.  
"Are you angry, then?  
"No."  
"My head hurt just now."  
Malenkee stared back at Dimi for a moment, then looked back and threw Onions into the salad. "Have you got a cold?  
I'll get some medicine for you later."  
Malenkee began to dislike this self-defense.  
She did get a little mad just now because of Tanya.  
She was not reconciled.  
Malenkee cooked the dinner and did not eat it. Instead, she actually went out and bought the medicine and ordered Dimi to take it.  
Dimi felt a little strange that something was wrong when she came back from the outside and asked again, "Malenkee, what's wrong with you?"  
This time, she didn't deny it. "A little scared."  
'Has anything happened to you?  
Dimi listened and quickly focused.  
Malenkee shook his head. "No.  
I just read a 'story'."  
Is it the story of history?  
Mindful of Malenkee's ability to immerse herself in some of history's most sensational stories if she wanted to, Dimi joked, "Is it more exciting than 007?"  
"More real, more exciting."  
Malenkee pulled two boxes of pills out of her bag and handed them to Dimi.  
The moment they made eye contact, Dimi's head hurt again.  
"Well..."  
Dimi got it. "You saw what happened to me...  
Is that so?"  
"The massacre, yes."  
"It wasn't a massacre, Malenkee.  
It's cleaning up."  
"Dimi said flatly.  
He took the medicine, opened a box, and ate a portion according to the instructions.  
Malenkee curled up in the couch and watched Dimi drink.  
She stared at the drawer in the doorway with the gun -- which she couldn't carry with her every day -- and thought of the first day she met Dimi. "Do you remember what you said to me?" she asked.  
Dimi looked at Malenkee, reacted for a moment, and then replied, "' I'm not pointing a gun at you.  
This is for people who are looking for you.  
'It counts, Malenkee, it counts."  
She smiled.

In the middle of December, the Christmas atmosphere in New York grew stronger, but there was never the snow that Malenkee wanted.  
Dimi has gotten used to living with Malenkee, waking up every morning to the sound of her making breakfast and coffee;  
I got used to seeing her take care of Ilya, go shopping and clean the house.  
She used to sit on the balcony and draw pictures every day. After the painting was destroyed, she was so upset that the second nail was empty till now.  
She used to "go back" to read history, and then "come back" to tell herself the interesting part;  
I got used to her saying "good night" to myself every day.  
He went to the hospital, and the doctor answered him apologetically that he had no idea where his old clothes had gone, let alone the photos.  
So, with sadness and regret, Dimi just accepted it.  
After all, Malenkee saved herself, and he couldn't ask her to think so much.  
He even began scouring newspapers and the Internet for topics such as licensing exams to see if he could continue his profession.  
Maybe it's just as well that life goes on like this.  
That afternoon, as he continued to study the American health system in his newspaper, Malenkee changed from the back room and jumped out. "Dimi!  
Do you want to do some Christmas shopping?  
The Lido supermarket has a limited edition of black sweet bread for Christmas and no Christmas tree!"  
He looked up at the excited Malenkee and smiled as he agreed.  
Lido supermarket is also a warm atmosphere, with Christmas songs playing in the background.  
The Lido supermarket near my home has an interesting layout -- a circle of groceries and a middle shelf stocked with everything. It's like a two-dollar store.  
Malenkee pushes a shopping cart, humming to the supermarket music as he fills it with bread and jam, fresh vegetables and meat.  
Turn to the supermarket inside, is the Christmas department store.  
There are many kinds of Christmas decorations in sight.  
Malenkee selected a fake tree that was not tall, while Dimi hovered over the pendant.  
"That's a nice one."  
He poked a row of kind-hearted stars, and Malenkee, grinning, picked a few and threw them into the cart.  
'Is there anything else?  
Malenkee looked at Dimi's pendant with interest, and Dimi's eyes fell on a row of little dolls.  
He smiled, but Malenkee instinctively felt that the smile was not for her.  
He sank into the memory of the smile, did not reach out to pick.  
A hand came into Dimi's view as Malenkee took off the whole row of doll ornaments, smiled at him, pushed the cart, and moved on.  
The shopping cart was filling up quickly, and there were a lot of Christmas shoppers, two people in a line.  
Malenkee's eyes were wandering, but he still wore a strange smile.  
It was the same on the way home.  
As soon as Malenkee opened the door, she saw Ilya waiting at the door.  
She tossed the bag in her hands, picked up Ilya, kissed his head, and whispered, "Ilya, do you love me?"  
Dimi puts the tree in the dining room and hears Malenkee's question.  
He looked at Malenkee.  
She didn't even close the door, just hugged Ilya and kept asking questions.  
Ilya meows and rubs Malenkee's chin.  
Malenkee's eyes were red.  
She rubbed Ilya, put him down, turned and ran out of the house.  
Dimi silently gathered up his purchases.  
He put the food in the refrigerator and put the Christmas pendant on it.  
He was lost in thought by the half-bag of doll pendants.  
That night, Malenkee did not return all night.  
Given Malenkee's abilities, Dimi is no longer worried about her.  
He sat by the French window, looking at the lamp outside the window, lit one cigarette after another, in the darkness and the light outside the window echoed.  
He had to confront the problem he had been avoiding for more than half a month.  
Malenkee wants to be his Tatiana.  
...  
He lit his umpteenth cigarette again, took out the gun by accident, and sat down by the French window.  
He held the gun in his hand and looked at it.  
The gun is an extended version of the original. The silvery barrel is long and beautiful. It has been used for many years and many parts have been changed.  
He thought of the question of the ship of Theseus, and it applied to the gun -- was it still the same gun after every part had been changed?  
Malenkee has seen so much, learned so much, traveled so many places, is she still the same?  
Although she is not Motoko Kusanagi, she is more different from Motoko Kusanagi.  
With the exception of her brain and spinal cord, none of Moko Kusanagi's parts are hers. What about Malenkee?  
Her brain may have been completely altered.  
Malenkee was no longer the little girl who would listen to her unconditionally.  
Or that Malenkee wasn't a little girl at all.  
Now she wanted to be Matilda, but he wasn't Leon.  
From the very beginning, the moment I decided not to kill her, my hope was misplaced.  
She's not Tanya, and she doesn't want to be Tanya.  
She's doing everything she can to be a Tatiana.  
But if let he choose again, will he kill her?  
Mr Dimi's mind immediately said no.  
Tatiana, Tanya, Tanya, Tatiana...  
Malenkee...  
The painting on the wall was hard to see in the dark, but Dimi had a clear memory of Malenkee writing "Tatiana."  
He sat back down on the sofa, drowsy.  
Ilya is asleep on the couch.  
He looked at Ilya and gave a complicated laugh -- nocturnal cats change their habits when they're kept in captivity.  
Who is whose tamed cat?


	12. Chapter 12

Early the next morning, Dimi woke up, as usual, to the sound of cooking in the kitchen.  
He blinked and realized that today's "normal" was actually "unusual."  
For one thing, it's getting close to noon, and for another, the Malenkee seems a little too normal.  
She made coffee energetically, humming a tune, as if nothing had happened, while a saucepan steamed on a nearby stove.  
Except that her eyes were a little blue, everything seemed normal.  
Malenkee noticed Dimi and smiled. "Are you awake?  
Are you hungry?"  
Dimi didn't know how to respond to her.  
He still doesn't want to face the "Tatiana or Tanya" question, but he doesn't want to upset her, so now he doesn't even know what to call her.  
"Malenkee has made lunch."  
"Said Malenkee calmly.  
With her back to Dimi, she couldn't see the expression.  
Dimi was shocked. What had she been thinking about all night?  
Why declare yourself, "I'm a Malenkee, not a Tatiana"?  
He gets up and goes to wash up. When he comes out, Malenkee has nearly finished her breakfast. Dimi gawps at the way she gulps.  
Malenkee noticed her eyes and sheepishly swallowed a mouthful of his meal and wiped his mouth. "Sorry, it was cold last night and I needed more food to provide the heat. I didn't have any dinner so I'm a little hungry now..."  
Dimi wasn't curious about where she had been last night -- after all, by herself, and not in any danger -- he was more curious about how Malenkee could have said that with such a calm face.  
"By the way, I saw a job opening at a nice pet hospital yesterday, but it was too late and they closed their doors, so I couldn't get in to inquire.  
Why don't you see if you can take a test?  
There are more things on sale in the Lido today. I think I lost a lot of money yesterday, but after buying everything, I gave up."  
"Malenkee."  
"Oh yeah, but I bought Ilya a new bag of cat litter, I'm almost out of the old one, and a couple of boxes of chicken breasts, which I cooked for him later..."  
"Malenkee."  
"The man who did morning exercises this morning said that the Marks and Spencer clothing department nearby was also having a sale. Hey, there are a lot of sales this Christmas season!  
I went in and I didn't have my size, but I placed an order.  
Speaking of Martha, I think there are some flower sellers next to the clothing department. I liked a lot of them last time, but I didn't buy them because I was afraid Ilya would break them.  
Now that I think about it, I should have bought it and put it in a few POTS at home..."  
"Malenkee......"  
Malenkee finally paused. She looked at Dimi with an innocent smile. "What's wrong?"  
"I think there's something we need to talk about...  
Dimi thought, but didn't know how to say it.  
He couldn't say "no" straight out.  
It can't be done.  
"There's nothing to say. Isn't that nice?  
Don't you have a book due soon?  
Go and pay it back.  
I'm doing the dishes. I have a picture I want to paint."  
Laughing, she stood up and gathered the dishes away.  
Dimi silently went to dress and pick up the borrowed books.  
As he left, he looked at Malenkee, who was still washing the dishes, splashing them vigorously, with that same smile on her face.  
From the library, Dimi took a detour to the Marks and Spencer that Malenkee was talking about.  
The clothing section was on sale.  
He went in and looked around the men's and women's sections. A clerk came to ask if she could help him.  
Dimi thought about it. "You guys, you can order...  
?"  
"I can mark that for you, Sir.  
Is there a need?"  
Dimi spotted a dress in the off-season sales section -- a plain one, light gray, with a Peter Pan collar, but a style that reminded him of an East German fashion magazine called Sibylle.  
The first Sibylle magazine cover he saw was a similar dress.  
Tatiana loved it, but didn't buy or cut it to save money. They joked that by the time Tanya was older, she and her daughter would wear the same dress.  
But the dress doesn't seem to fit Malenkee either.  
Dimi doesn't know the exact size of the Malenkee, but the ones hanging on the shelf are obviously too big, and he estimates they must be at least three sizes smaller.  
The clerk eagerly brought Dimi to the counter. "May I have your name, Sir?"  
"Klettverschluss."  
"Well, Klettverschluss?  
The clerk turned over his notes and laughed. "A very special name indeed. There was a Miss Klettverschluss here this morning.  
Do you know her, Sir? '  
"Know.  
Does she want the dress, too?"  
"No, I just ordered some shirts."  
Dimi had expected that Malenkee would "go back" to see the fashion magazine event, but it doesn't appear that she did.  
He looked at the dress and murmured, "Tatiana..."  
Tatiana? ""  
The clerk glanced at the record, a little embarrassed. "Well, that's a coincidence, Sir, you might know another Miss Klettverschluss..."  
'What?  
Dimi did not immediately respond.  
"This is Malenkee.  
Malenkee Klettverschluss."  
Dimi's brain sank deeper into downtime.  
"Sir?  
Do you still need a reservation?"  
"Asked the clerk somewhat strangely.  
"No...  
No need.  
I'm sorry."  
Dimi said hesitantly.  
'Never mind, Sir.  
Enjoy your shopping."  
The clerk smiled and went about his business.  
He could not understand what Malenkee meant.  
She didn't seem to want to tell herself, but quietly left the clerk the name "Malenkee" instead of "Tatiana."  
And myself?  
He looked at the grey dress.  
Do you want to do Vertigo?  
Dimi moved slowly over Martha.  
He went to the potting section, bought a strong looking green potted plant, and walked home with the pot in his arms.  
He found hope in his life and the meaning and purpose of the twenty years he had lost. It was Malenkee, huddling on the floor shivering, who gave him hope.  
Does it matter if she replaces Tatiana or Tanya?  
Dimi decided to try not to think about it.  
Maybe I'll get used to it.  
She was her new meaning, and that was enough.  
When he got home, Malenkee's painting was finished.  
This time she drew quickly and simply, and the picture was much simpler -- both in terms of the brush and the content.  
Because this time, it's just Dimi and Ilya.  
Dimi places the potted plant on the coffee table, and Malenkee hears the voice, "Ah, you're going to Martha!"  
"Well.  
Do you like this?"  
Dimi asked.  
"Very nice."  
Malenkee laughed as he took down the painting.  
She hung the picture on the second nail.  
This time, Dimi notes, she's signed off Malenkee.  
Malenkee clearly doesn't know what Dimi is thinking, but her own thoughts are clear to her.  
Just like this painting -- she could never appear in Dimi's life as Tatiana, not even as a substitute.  
She's just a Tanya, a Tanya that's not as good as the original Tanya.  
The name "Tatiana" on my passport now looks so eye-catching.  
She'd rather be Malenkee now, the Malenkee between Tatiana and Tanya.  
Is it not good to go on like this, in a daze?  
At least that's what she thought.  
They each thought differently, but made the same decision.  
The two people looked at each other and smiled.


	13. Chapter 13

Christmas came at last, and to Malenkee's great joy, it had been snowing heavily since the night before!  
She was so excited, looking forward to playing in the snow with Dimi, and looking forward to a white Christmas.  
The snow continued to fall all the next day.  
Malenkee was so excited that she got up early and cooked Christmas dinner all day.  
Dimi is reviewing his veterinary knowledge and is preparing to take an exam so that he can get certified early.  
Malenkee wouldn't let him have a hand in the cooking anyway, so he had nothing to do but review his medical knowledge at Christmas.  
But it's not for anything else that Malenkee won't let him in, but because his 20 years in the gang have put his cooking skills backwards. "You'd better let me do it if you don't want to blow up the kitchen," Malenkee says.  
Dimi's head writhed as he took a look at the day's profile -- he was no longer a teenager, after all.  
He took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and decided to go back.  
The Christmas tree lights flickered and sequined stars reflected on them.  
Dimi eventually threw away the doll ornaments, and Malenkee didn't seem to notice.  
It was about four o 'clock in the afternoon when the snow finally stopped and the sky cleared up. A little sunset was visible from the west.  
From the kitchen, Malenkee suddenly cried out, "Yikes!  
I didn't buy a mince pie! '  
She tore off her apron, threw it aside, rushed into the back room, changed her clothes, and was about to go out.  
"How did you forget this?"  
Dimi asked with a smile, holding Ilya in his arms.  
"I think of everything, and I forget it.  
At first, I wanted to buy something for my convenience. As a result, I cooked for a day and forgot it!  
No, no, no. What's Christmas without mince pies?  
I'll be right back!"  
With that, she rushed out of the house.  
Dimi shakes his head with a smile.  
He turned on the TV.  
The TV broadcast the Christmas-related news and Dimi held Ilya and scratched his belly.  
Even on Christmas Day, not all the news programs broadcast Christmas news.  
Ilya purred, purring, and a news report about Quantico came on the TV.  
There seems to be some internal mismanagement in the reporting system that leads to a muddle of information or something.  
Storage rooms and evidence rooms, for example, have accumulated over the years a lot of things that have actually lost their usefulness.  
They put some useless, unclear information are cleared out, collective destruction.  
Dimi watched half-heartedly, but as the speaker stood at the destruction site for the interview, his whole body stiffened and his hands grew careless.  
A suit in the background looks all too familiar.  
His hands clenched and Ilya let out a scream and broke free of Dimi's bondage.  
Ignoring Ilya, Dimi stood up and walked slowly over to the TV.  
As the picture turned, the camera began to sweep the things flat.  
For a split second, Dimi could clearly see what was poking out of the pants pocket -- a corner of his photo...  
I thought I left it at the hospital.  
Didn't you say there were no more?  
!  
His thoughts were quickly confused, then clear again...  
Malenkee...  
Who else?  
This was a big lie that Malenkee told himself, but with such a small mistake. Otherwise, I still thought that Malenkee's ability to "modify the world" had not been awakened.  
In fact?  
She was already the one who could fix everything.  
He was "dead," and his body was transported to Quantico.  
Malenkee, however, does not want Tatiana and Tanya back and tells herself that she has only been in a coma for a year and has actually modified the world line.  
She's still pretending to be innocent and staying with herself every day...  
On the news, they were doused in gasoline and ready to be set alight.  
Dimi broke down and yelled, "No!  
Tatiana!  
Tatiana!  
Tanya...  
I'm Tanya...  
Tanya!"  
The fire burned everything, including the photo, and Dimi's mind.  
When he saw the new potted plants on the coffee table, he was even more enraged that he had taken Malenkee for his new meaning...  
He took the potted plant and threw it at the TV. The potted plant broke apart, spilling dirt all over the floor and destroying the TV screen.  
He sat on the sofa, his fists clenched, sweat running down his cheeks.  
Ilya, who had been cowering on the top of the refrigerator, suddenly jumped down and came to the door, which was immediately followed by the sound of hurried footsteps and the opening of the door.  
Malenkee came back with a box of mince pies.  
She was in such a hurry that she took no notice of the mess in the living room and only said, "Just a minute, Ilya, I'll be ready in a minute."  
She dropped the box of mince pies on the dining-room floor and hurried into the back room to change.  
Dimi's anger seared into his sanity.  
He jumped to his feet, took the gun out of a drawer, put it in his back, and ran back into the bedroom.  
Malenkee had just changed into her clothes at home when Dimi came in. "Gee, why did you come in instead of waiting for dinner?" she said.  
She knew Dimi wouldn't mean anything else. It must have been an emergency.  
But after seeing Dimi's angry face, she realized that things were going the way they were supposed to be.  
Dimi looks at Malenkee with maximum restraint, trying to see what Malenkee will say.  
It was not an easy feeling to hold back his anger. He felt a little queasy.  
Malenkee's eyes wandered for a moment as he concentrated. He 'went back' for a brief check, then sighed softly. 'You know...'  
Then there was silence.  
Mr Dimi wanted more than that.  
He jerked out his gun and put it to Malenkee's forehead.  
Dusk had fallen, and the snow outside was gilded.  
Many Christmas families came out of the house, laughing and having snowball fights.  
The evening glow burned across the sky and turned the whole room into the orange-red color of the setting sun.  
Ilya walks in from the outside, stands up and takes Malenkee's leg.  
Malenkee bent down and picked up Ilya, stroked him, then smiled, lowered her head and let go of her hand.  
The smile was sad.  
Dimi's consciousness suddenly clears a bit -- he asks himself the question again.  
"Would he kill Malenkee if he went back in time with the memory?"  
He had thought he was cold and decisive enough to pull the trigger and do his boss's job.  
But now he found himself as incapable of doing it as before.  
He couldn't do it.  
"I'm sorry, Malenkee, I...  
I'm sorry..."  
He looked to the other side and lowered his gun hand slowly.  
Halfway through, however, Malenkee quickly snatched the gun from his hand.  
Dimi is taken aback and looks up to see that Malenkee has the gun pointed at his heart.  
Somehow, in that instant, he had completely changed his mind -- somehow, he had to make her drop the gun first.  
"Malenkee......"  
"Don't stop me, Dimi, I can always kill myself another way."  
Malenkee still smiled sadly.  
Standing at the window, she glanced down and sighed softly, "What a heavy snow, what a beautiful white Christmas...  
Unfortunately, I have no chance to play with you in the snow."  
"There will be, Malenkee, you put the gun down, put the gun down..."  
Dimi tried to persuade her.  
Malenkee let out a long sigh -- it was hard to tell whether it was pain or relief.  
Leaning against the window, with her thumb on the handle of the gun, she said: "The picture, to tell you the truth, is something I neglected.  
I should have brought it to you sooner instead of letting it sit in Quantico and be destroyed.  
Sorry Dimi."  
She looked out. The sunset glow was brighter.  
"But even if I did it perfectly, I would have waited for this day."  
"...  
What day?"  
Dimi tried to ask.  
Malenkee looked at him and said softly, but with a trembling voice:  
"The day you put a gun to me."  
Malenkee fingered the scar with her left thumb. Slowly she said, "You promised me a lot of things, Dimi.  
You said you would protect my safety, but you were absent;  
You said you would wait for me when I travelled, but only one devil waited for me.  
You said you wouldn't point a gun at me, and yet..."  
The barrel of Malenkee's gun tapped his chest. "You still haven't done it."  
Her eyes began to water, and a little SOB came to her voice, but she repressed it, and went on: "But I have done all I promised you -- and I will soon do what I have not done.  
I promised you, drink more water, stay healthy, I did;  
I promised you not to give my power to anyone, and I have done it.  
I promise that I will protect you when I am strong enough -- I have done part of it, and the rest I will do in a moment."  
Dimi kept shaking his head. "Malenkee, put the gun down. Put the gun down, OK?"  
Malenkee's gun was still pointed at him.  
"You should have killed me back in St. Petersburg," she recalled.  
Kill me...  
And no more trouble from me later.  
With Matt and in Quantico, it was your words that gave me a little hope for the future...  
That's why I changed the time.  
I don't want to leave you.  
In fact, if you really want to do this, it is very easy.  
I can directly modify everyone's memory, including yours.  
But I don't want to do that.  
I don't want to use any of the power of revision time in front of you, except to let you leave behind a lie.  
And I don't regret it now."  
"Thank you, Malenkee -- Tatiana. Put down the gun and we'll talk this over, shall we?"  
Tatiana?"  
No kidding, Dimi."  
Malenkee laughed. "I'm not even a substitute for her.  
Neither Tatiana is."  
She looked outside at the wall. That third nail might not have worked.  
"I thought it would be an eternal lie, but when I started to do it, I knew it would be a temporary lie.  
But one month of lies is enough to make me happy."  
She straightened up and said solemnly, "But Dimi, don't worry, it's almost over."  
"Malenkee, don't..."  
"In a minute, when you finish this."  
Malenkee tapped his fingers on the pistol. "My soul will still be there.  
I will give you back your Tatiana and Tanya before returning to a new reincarnation or form."  
She smiled and shed two tears. Then, taking a deep breath, she added with difficulty, "And I will erase my soul's memory of you.  
Then you'll never have another 'Malenkee' to bother you.  
I will also erase all your memories of me. You can forget all this, forget me as a bad substitute, and go back to Berlin to find your friends of Dynasty, to find your Tatiana, to find your Tanya, to find your happiness, which I have detained."  
Dimi is in complete contradiction -- of course he wants his family back, but he also doesn't want Malenkee to leave.  
"Malenkee, don't do it!"  
"You see, I promised you I would protect you, I brought you back into the world, and I did.  
Now I'm going to do what I didn't do.  
And I'm not just a lying liar, am I?"  
Malenkee smiled with tears in his eyes.  
Dimi took a few deep breaths and said as calmly as he could, "Malenkee, remember the other thing I said?  
'Bad guys will let you stay,' remember?  
I'm a murderer!  
I'm a bad person!  
I want you to stay!  
Leave!  
Malenkee!"  
Malenkee looked at him calmly, her cheeks wet.  
"But I'm a good man, and 'good men will let you go'.  
I'll let you go, Dimi."  
Malenkee stood up straight, looked Dimi in the eye, smiled as best she could, and said,  
"Goodbye, Dimi.  
I love you."  
Before Dimi could speak, a shot rang out.  
Malenkee fell down.  
The silver pistol clanked to the floor.  
Blood gushed out and spilled all over the floor.  
Dimi's mind went back to the night when Nikita grabbed his arm and gave him the bad news.  
He didn't believe it, and Malenkee just left.  
It can't be...  
But before he could come forward and try to say her name, her body turned into a bright white light that blinded him.  
By the time Dimi opened his eyes again, Malenkee's body was gone -- even the blood was gone.  
The bed was as neat as if no one had slept in it, not even an impression.  
The phone and the book at the end of the bed were gone, and an empty nightstand stood there.  
Dimi stumbled out of the house -- and so did the outside.  
Only my clothes were hanging on the hanger, and the shoe cupboard was half empty.  
The paintings on the walls and on the balcony are gone, the TV is intact, the potted plants are gone, and the floor is clean and tidy.  
My quilt is still on the sofa, but my laptop and charger are missing from the coffee table.  
The Christmas dinner was gone, the tree was gone, and the dining room and kitchen were deserted.  
The brown wooden tray was empty, and the set of white porcelain coffee POTS she had loved was gone.  
Even Ilya had disappeared, along with his equipment.  
All traces of Malenkee had been erased.  
It was as if Dimi had only ever lived in the apartment.  
The room was full of sunset orange, and the clouds outside the window were so beautiful that people could not look straight at them.  
Dimi stood at the edge of the couch and stared at the place where the easel had been.  
Suddenly, his head ached more violently than ever before.  
He felt his memory slipping away.  
All the memories of Malenkee were fading fast.  
Dimi clutched his head, his arms on the back of the couch, and fought the force with all his will.  
"No...  
No......  
!!!!!!!!"  
Dimi's head seemed to be being sucked dry by opposing forces, but he gradually forgot.  
What was the first time I met Malenkee?  
What happened at the Nevsky Street subway station again?  
How did I save Malenkee?  
Did I save her?  
How did she come to my place?  
What did I say to her?  
Why am I in the hospital? Am I hurt?  
Why am I here?  
...  
Suddenly, Dimi's headache disappeared.  
He fell to the ground.  
Looking at the ceiling, Dimi was confused.  
He was sure he wasn't crazy, but there was a vague image hovering in his mind.  
A beautiful, kind, lively, but vague figure.  
The figure whirled round and round, and then told herself vaguely that she was going.  
He could not see or remember her face.  
Who is she?  
All Dimi remembers is that her name is Malenkee.  
He loves her.  
He didn't want her to go.


End file.
